‘Oh, ay, them’s the sea-crows. They comes here every year. But that’s not ten minutes’ walk from here, that isn’t!’
‘There must be a man about the place as can give me a hand with them,’ said Abner, irritated by her unconcern.
‘All gone home an hour ago,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘There’s only me and the master, and he’s not back yet.’
At that moment all the dogs began to bark together. She got up and opened the door, and the lights of a gig turned the corner and dashed into the yard. Another cob was tied to the cart tail. The woman ran to meet the new-comer, and a big man threw the reins over the horse’s flanks and got out of the trap. The dog yelped round him friendlily, and he cursed it. ‘Get away!’ he said.
‘You’d best take out,’ he said to the woman. ‘I’m properly starved, I am. What do you think of the new cob? Forty-eight pound! I never knew such prices!’
‘There’s a chap here says he’s a woman and two children lost up by the sea-crows’ pool,’ she said, disregarding his question. ‘You’d better go and have a word with him.’
‘Gipsies?’ he said angrily; but without waiting for her reply he stalked stiffly into the room, slapping his dank hands and blinking at the light. He stared at Abner.
‘Hallo!’ he said. ‘I know you. You’m George Malpas’s lodger.’
Abner also recognised his host. It was Mr Williams of Pentre Higgin, the farmer who had chosen himself foreman of the jury at Bastard’s inquest.
‘Well, what’s all this I hear about a woman and two kids?’ said the fanner threateningly. ‘Is that Malpas’s wife?’