He picked up his barrow handles to push past her; but she was three inches taller than him and so strong as a pony; and she knew when you be along with a madman you’ve got to stand firm.

“Put that down and listen to me, Nicky,” she said.  “I ain’t come all this way and spent eight shillings on a railway ticket and a horse and trap to be turned down without hearing my voice.  Listen you shall—­it’s life and death for me, if not for you.  I got a ’nonymous letter from a well wisher saying you was here and that’s why I be come.”

He heaped curses on her head and made horrible faces at her.  He threatened to murder her on the spot if she went an inch nearer, and he picked up a great stone to do it with.  In fact you’d have said he weren’t at all the sort of man for a woman to fret at losing.  But woman’s taste in man be like other mysteries, and ’tis no good trying to explain why a nice, comely she such as his wife had any more use for this black zany.

“Devil—­beast!” he yelped at her.  “For two pins I’d strangle you!  How have you got the front to dare to breathe the same air with the man you’ve outraged and ruined?”

“Do as you please and strangle me and welcome, Nicky; but listen first.  Us’ll have everything in order if you please.  First read that.  Somebody here—­I don’t know from Adam who ’twas—­wrote to tell me you were working to Meldon; and that’s how I’ve found you.”

He read the letter and grew calmer.

“As to that,” he said, “I’ve told a good few stonemen of my fearful misfortunes and what I meant to do; and one of ’em has gone back on me and given my hiding-place away to you; and if I knew which it was, I’d skin the man alive.  But I’ll find out.”

“So much for that then,” answered his wife, “and the next thing be to know why you are in a hiding-place and what you’re hiding from.  And if I was you, I’d come home this instant moment and explain after you get back.”

“Home!” he screamed.  “You say ‘home!’ A nice home!  D’you think I don’t know all—­every tricky wicked item of your plots and your wickedness?  D’you think I don’t know you be going to marry Solomon Chuff?  You stare, you foul slut; but I know, and that’s what I’m waiting for.  So soon as the man have took you, then I was coming back to turn you out of my house—­my house, you understand!  I was only waiting for that, and when Chuff thinks he’s settled in my shoes, I’ll be on to him like a flame of fire, and he’ll call on the hills to cover him.  And I won’t take you back—­don’t think it.  I’m done with you for evermore and all other beasts of women.”

“Aw Jimmery!” cried his wife.  “I’m hearing things!  And where did you larn these fine lies if I ban’t axing too much?”

“From a friend,” he said.  “I’ve got one good and faithful friend left at Postbridge, and thanks to him, I’ve had the bitter truth these many days.”

“Would it surprise you to hear, Nicky, that Solomon Chuff’s tokened to Miller Ley’s oldest daughter?  They be going to wed at Easter, and ’twas Alice Ley herself that told me about it a month ago and I wished her joy.”