'Poor Jane, poor Jane,' said Mr. Holwood dolorously. 'I am listening, Dench; tell me more. Has she been—on the whole—steady?—I would say—broadly speaking, respectable?'
'Well, yes, sir, so far. She has had the girl properly educated, thanks to your liberality. She has also sent her to church. Jane herself cannot read nor write. You may remember, in the register she set a cross for her mark. I can't say I have seen her much at church myself.'
'Ah!' said Mr. Holwood, 'I always go to church; but,' he sighed, 'the lump is still there, like the comfit in the key, and will not out.'
'Where are you staying, sir, if I may be so bold as to ask?'
'At the Red Lion.'
The ferryman smiled. 'With Mrs. Warne,' said he, 'that is the hostess who has had some trouble with Jane.'
'You don't mean to hint that she—she was—hem! was in drink?'
'I can't say what it was. I was not there at the time, but I heard talk about it. Mrs. Warne had to threaten to send for the constable to remove her.'
Mr. Holwood sighed. 'Bless my soul, how sad!'
'And at Nethersole's farm it was wusser. They had a to-do to prevent her from firing the ricks.'