“She were out for mischief, Mister,” he whispered solemnly, “else she would never have meddled wi’ I! What did she reckon she wanted, walking in they wet fields afore ’twas light? And she spoke to I twice afore I hooked thik girt fish. Be I’d been little, like I were wunst, she’d have made I run home quaking and shaking! Do ’ee know what she said to I, Mister? Her came ’long o’ thik hedge-side path what leads from Farmer’s Rest to Pond Lane. I saw she coming and I wished myself anywhere; for I reckoned the wold chap had gone and hid ’isself; and her were after he; both on ’em nigh crazy, as you might say! Her came walking straight to where I were, stepping silent, like any wold cow, and when she’d looked at that cold water awhile her kind o’ shook. ‘Have ’ee seen it?’ she said. ‘Seen what, Miss Bess?’ I said. ‘The face under the water,’ said she, ‘what they all talk of up at Rest.’ ‘I bain’t looking for no faces,’ said I. ‘I be fishing for perch.’ ‘ ’Twill be seen,’ she said, ‘ ’Twill be seen, till one that be living now be where it