Slender as was Jude Fawley's frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting.

Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, "Drusilla Fawley, Baker." Within the little lead panes of the window-this being one of the few old houses left-were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers.

Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future."And who's he?" asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy entered."Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He's my great-nephew-come since you was last this way." The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. "He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago-worse luck for 'n, Belinda" (turning to the right) "where his father was living, and was took wi' the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline" (turning to the left). "It would ha' been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi' thy mother and father, poor useless boy!

But I've got him here to stay with me till I can see what's to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can.

Just now he's a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham.

It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?" she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.