'That was Costrell's wife, Watson, wasn't it, poor thing?'
'Aye, it wor Mrs. Costrell,' said Watson, in the tone of concern natural to the respectable husband and father.
The minister sighed.
'It's terrible the way she's gone downhill the last three months. I never pass almost but I see her going in there or coming out.'
'No,' said Watson, slowly, 'no, it's bad. What I'd like to know,' he added, reflectively,' is where she gets the money from.'
'Oh, she had a legacy, hadn't she, in August? It seems to have been a curse. She has been a changed woman ever since.'
'Yes, she had a legacy,' said Watson, dubiously; 'but I don't believe it was much. She talked big, of course, and made a lot o' fuss—she's that kind o' woman—just as she did about old John's money.'
'Old John's money?—Ah! did any one ever know what became of that?'
'Well, there's many people thinks as Isaac has got it hid in the house somewhere, and there's others thinks he's put it in Bedford bank. Edwards told me private he didn't know nothing about it at the post-office, and Bessie told my wife as John had given Isaac the keepin of it till he come back again; but he'd knock her about, she said, if she let on what he'd done with it. That's the story she's allus had, and boastin, of course, dreadful, about John's trustin them, and Isaac doin all his business for him.'
The minister reflected.