"And what did you say in your scrawl?"
"Oh, medlars! Take-ins! You know!... I didn't put my fist to it, though!"
"Who then?"
"You ask that?"
"I'm no wizard! If it wasn't your fist, whose then?"
"My woman...."
"Ernestine?"
"Yes. Ernestine."
They struggled on through the squally darkness. Then one of the two broke the silence.
"You're not jealous, Beadle, making your girl write letters to such folk?"