shrieked, and the pig from his sty behind the house urgently seconded the motion.
'I'm Midmore! Coxen's old mill-dam is likely to go, they say. Come out!'
'I told 'em it would when they made a fish-pond of it. 'Twasn't ever puddled proper. But it's a middlin' wide valley. She's got room to spread. . . . Keep still, or I'll take and duck you in the cellar! . . . You go 'ome, Mus' Midmore, an' take the law o' Mus' Lotten soon's you've changed your socks.'
'Confound you, aren't you coming out?'
'To catch my death o' cold? I'm all right where I be. I've seen it before. But you can take her. She's no sort o' use or sense. . . . Climb out through the window. Didn't I tell you I'd plugged the door-cracks, you fool's daughter?' The parlour window opened, and the woman flung herself into Midmore's arms, nearly knocking him down. Mr. Sidney leaned out of the window, pipe in mouth,
'Take her 'ome,' he said, and added oracularly:
Two women in one house,
Two cats an' one mouse,
Two dogs an' one bone—
Which I will leave alone.
I've seen it before.' Then he shut and fastened the window.
'A trap! A trap! You had ought to have brought a trap for me. I'll be drowned in this wet,' the woman cried.
'Hold up! You can't be any wetter than you
