"He can't bear no talk about Westall--it seems to drive him silly.

But I say as how people _should_ know." Her wavering eye seemed to interrogate her companion.

Marcella was puzzled by her manner--it was so far from simple.
"But that was long ago, surely," she said.
"Yes, it wor long ago, but you don't forget them things, miss! An' Westall, he's just the same sort as he was then, so folks say," she added hurriedly.

"You see Jim, miss, how he's made?
His back was twisted that way when he was a little un.

His father was a good old man--everybody spoke well of 'im--but his mother, she was a queer mad body, with red hair, just like Jim and the children, and a temper! my word.