“And the horrible husband?” asked Juliet, now thoroughly interested in Mrs. Rickett’s favourite tragedy.

“I were coming to him,” said Mrs. Rickett, with obvious relish.  “The husband stayed at The Three Tuns till closing time, then he went out roaring drunk, took the cliff-path by mistake, and went over the cliff in the dark.  The tide was up, and he was drowned.  And a great pity it didn’t happen a little bit sooner, says I!  The nasty coarse hulking brute!  I’d have learned him a thing or two if he’d belonged to me.”  Again, vindictively, Mrs. Rickett wiped her eyes.  “Believe me, miss, there’s no martyrdom so bad as getting married to the wrong man.  I’ve seen it once and again, and I knows.”

“I quite agree with you,” said Juliet.  “But tell me some more!  Who took the poor babies?”

“Oh, Mrs. Cross at the lodge took them.  Mr. Fielding provided for ’em, and he helped young Dick along too.  He’s been very good to them always.  He had young Jack trained, and now he’s his chauffeur and making a very good living.  The worst of Jack is, he ain’t over steady, got too much of his father in him to please me.  He’s always after some girl—­two or three at a time sometimes.  No harm in the lad, I daresay.  But he’s wild, you know.  Dick finds him rather a handful very often.  Robin can’t abide him, which perhaps isn’t much to be wondered at, seeing as it was mostly Jack’s fault that he is such a poor cripple.  He was always sickly.  It’s often the way with twins, you know.  All the strength goes to one.  But he always had to do what Jack did as a little one, and Jack led him into all sorts of mischief, till one day when they were about ten they went off bird’s-nesting along the cliffs High Shale Point way, and only Jack come back late at night to say his brother had gone over the cliff.  Dick tore off with some of the chaps from the shore.  It were dark and windy, and they all said it was no use, but Dick insisted upon going down the face of the cliff on a rope to find him.  And find him at last he did on a ledge about a hundred feet down.  He was so badly hurt that he thought he’d broke his back, and he didn’t dare move him till morning, but just stayed there with him all night long.  Oh, it was a dreadful business.”  A large tear splashed unchecked on to Mrs. Rickett’s apron.  “An ill-fated family, as you might say.  They got ’em up in the morning o’ course, but poor little Robin was very bad.  He was on his back for nearly a year after, and then, when he began to get about again, them humps came and he grew crooked.  Mr. Fielding were away at the time, hunting somewhere in the wilds of Africa, and when he came home he were shocked to see the lad.  He had the very best doctors in the land to see him, but they all said there was nothing to be done.  The spine had got twisted, or something of that nature, and he’d begun to have queer giddy fits too as made ’em say the brain were affected, which it really weren’t, miss, for he’s as sane as you or me, only simple