'You must go out of the reach of Rebow's arm, if you find it.'
'You won't give me any?'
He shook his head. 'For my life, I dursn't do it.' He laughed and put out his hand to chuck her under the chin, she struck his fingers up with her fist. 'There ain't a better judge of beasts in all the marshes than Rebow, nor in horse-flesh neither. You ain't a bad bit of meat neither. I approve his taste.'
Mehalah wrenched the pitchfork out of his hand. Her eyes flamed. She would have struck him; but was suddenly assailed from behind by the farmer's wife.
'Now then, hussy, what are you up to?'
The girl could not answer; her anger choked the words in her throat.
'She's that wench of Rebow's, you know,' said the farmer. 'I guess it is cat and dog in that house.'
'Get you gone,' shouted the woman, 'go out of my premises, hussy! I don't want my place to be frequented by such as you. Get you gone at once, or I will loose the mastiff.'
Mehalah retired with bowed head, and her arms folded on her bosom. She halted on the bridge, and kicked fragments of frozen earth and gravel into the water. A woman going by looked at her.
'Where is the parson?' asked Mehalah.