people—but I don't say it; though public thought will out."
"What do you do on the farm?"
"I does carting things all the year, and in seed time I shoots the rooks and sparrows, and helps at pig-killing, sir."
"How much to you?"
"Please nine and ninepence and a good halfpenny where 'twas a bad one, sir—ma'am I mane."
"Quite correct. Now here are ten shillings in addition as a small present, as I am a new comer."
Bathsheba blushed slightly as she spoke at the sense of being generous in public, and Henery Fray, who had drawn up towards her chair, lifted his eyebrows and fingers to express amazement on a small scale.
"How much do I owe you—that man in the corner—what's your name?" continued Bathsheba.
"Matthew Moon, ma'am," said a singular framework of clothes with nothing of any consequence inside them, which advanced with the toes in no definite direction forwards, but turned in or out as they chanced to swing.
"Matthew Mark, did you say?—speak out—I shall not hurt you," enquired the young farmer, kindly.
"Matthew Moon, mem," said Henery Fray,
