Bob has more stories of this countryside than anyone I
know. Last week, when he was 'on the sick,' I met him on the road and he pointed out to me a man he said was the biggest rogue he had ever encountered, and went on : 'He don't always get away with it, like the time holly was scarce. He went along the hedge, gathered berries of some kind and tied them on the holly, then he stood at the corner of the square at X. and offered it for sale. It was half dark there, see? He was selling a bunch to a fat woman when she noticed the berries was hanging oil the holly and broke the cotton. She didn't say nothing. She just gave him a pasting with the bunch and he turned and run. If she hadn't been such a big woman she'd have flogged him with that lot,but he got away, so she come back and kicked his basket under a wagon. Old Jack Jones was the policeman there then. He never stopped her. It was a great laugh.'
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