‘Well, well!’ commented Mrs. Belbin, throwing up her eyes and hands. ‘All so natural like, wa’ n’t it?’
She had evidently been much impressed by the strict order of precedence observed by the actors in this visionary drama.
‘Well, then I seed farmers a-goin’ up—’
‘Did ye see poor Farmer Fiander?’ inquired the other eagerly.
‘Nay, nay. He were n’t there, strange to say. ’T ’ud ha’ been natural to see him—him bein’ dead, ye know—but he were n’t there. But I see master a-bein’ judged.’
‘Did ye, now? and where did he go? He’s a good man—he ’d be like to go up’ards. Were Hamworthy there—the butcher, I mean? I wonder what the A’mighty ’ud say to the short weights that he do give us poor folk!’
‘Nay, I did n’t see him, fur it were a-comin’ nigh my turn, and I were that a-feared I could n’t think o’ nothin’ else. And when I did get up to walk up under gallery I thought my legs did give way and down I plumped—and that did awaken me up.’
‘Well, it was a wonderful dream, Mrs. Paddock. I’m not surprised as you be feelin’ a bit poorly to-day. ’T is astonishing what folks d’ dream when they’re upset. I do assure ye when my stummick’s a bit out of order I’m hag-rid all night. Last Sunday ’t was, I did dream I seed a great big toad sittin’ on piller, and I hollered out and hit at him, and Belbin he cotched me by the hand, “Good gracious!” says he, “what be’st thumpin’ me like that for?” “Why,” says I, “bain’t there a toad on piller?” “Nay now,” says he, “there’s nothin’ at all; but you’ve a-hit me sich a crack upon the chops that I’ll lay I’ll have the toothache for a week.”’
‘I’d never go for to say as dreams did n’t mean summat, though,’ said Mrs. Paddock.
‘Aye, I’ve great faith in dreams and tokens and sich. Ye mind old Maria Gillingham? Folks always used to think her a bit of a witch, but she never did nobody much harm seemingly. It were but the day before she died as I did meet her. “You look poorly, Maria,” says I. “I be like to be poorly, Mrs. Paddock,” says she. “I’m near my end,” she says. “I ’ve had a token.” “You don’t tell me?” says I. “Yes,” she said. “I were a-sittin’ in chimbly corner just now, and three great blue-bottles did come flyin’ in wi’ crape upon their wings, and they did fly three times round my head, and they did say, Soon gone! Soon gone! Soon gone!”’