CONVERSATION IN A COUNTRY LODGING

By KATE O'BRIEN

" . . . but she's a bad girl, miss. Bad as they make 'em. I always believe in calling a spade a spade, as you know—and bad is the word for Edith Potts."

" It isn't a bad-sounding name."

" Maybe not, miss. Not that I get your meaning. But bad she is, and no mistake. I wonder you haven't noticed her, on the 'bus sometime? "

" What does she look like? "

" Striking—I will say. Pale—a bit too pale to my thinking, and tall and a good figure. There's no use denying that she's a well-made girl. She makes up, of course, but really not as much as you'd expect. No rouge or that. But you'd notice her—you'd have to. I always do say that you can't expect any man that is a man to be'ave himself within half a mile of Edith Potts! Bert laughs at me when I say that, but I know I'm right. That's why I say she's bad. After all, miss, men are men. We all know that. That's why it's up to the women."

" Why do you always call her Edith Potts? Isn't she married to the butcher, or what? "

" Oh, she's married to Woodley all right. I was at the wedding myself. A great blow-out they had. But there's that about her—I don't know, but you could never think of her someway as Mrs. Woodley, like another would be. She doesn't settle to any name but her own. The whole village calls her Edith Potts to this day, and always will, by the way of things."

" When was she married? "

" Two years ago, less a month. Woodley gave a very nice party for it in the Village Hall. I will say that. But as I said to Bert, there can't have been a decent-looking man there —excepting Bert, of course—that hadn't been out with Edith Potts in his time. You know what I mean, miss. A man had only to look like he was alive, and she had him. Everyone knew that. Still, none of us can see what she sees in this poor young Mr. Wilson. Of course, he is gentry, right enough —and maybe she thinks he has money. Not that he has. He hasn't a penny. Woodley says he doesn't always pay them his board money."

" Then why doesn't Woodley chuck him out—what with one thing and another? " " That's what everyone is asking. It's my belief he's afraid of Edith going too, if he did! But what are you to make of a man like that Woodley? Hard as nails in business, hard and mean all his life to every Christian he has dealings with! Ask Bert, miss, if you don't believe me! And now here he is, whining about and making himself the laugh of the village over this affair! Why, only last Tuesday, standing by his van down there at the door, he was cutting the coupons out of the ration-books, and I said to him, just to see what'd happen, I said, How's Edith? I hear she isn't very well? '- and do you know, he leant up against the inside of the van as if he felt faint or something, and he went purple in the face. If isn't my child,' said he. ' I'll break every bone in the fellow's body—you see if I don't! ' And, believe me or not, the man was crying when he said it. I'd swear he was. Did you ever in your life? " " Then he talks about it? " " Talks? Seems like he can talk of nothing else now, miss! Calls himself a man too! Of course, he didn't have any children by his first wife, and he is, I do think, a bit old for a girl like Edith. So I expect he knows full well it can't be his child. But what's he want to run around talking about it for? "

" I suppose he is unhappy." " Funny way to be unhappy, if you ask me! Oh, he's a masterpiece is Woodley! You'll hardly believe me, though, if I tell you what he did a fortnight ago! He drove into Mit- ford, to talk about his troubles to Mr. Archibald. You'll have seen Mr. Archibald abort, miss. He's the architect Mr. Wilson works with in Mitford. He lives in this village—if you ever have a drink in The Horseshoe ' in the evening, miss, you'll see him there. He's a friend of Mr. Cheadle, the landlord, and he told Mr. Cheadle and Mr. Cheadle told Bert."

" What did he tell Mr. Cheadle? "

" Why, that Woodley was into his Milford office to see him —about his wife and Mr. Wilson! "

" Kind of reporting Mr. Wilson for bad conduct, I suppose?" " Oh no, miss. He wasn't reporting Mr. Wilson to his boss, as it were. That's the funny thing. He was just asking Mr. Archibald's advice—what he ought to do, like! Can you beat it? "

" Does he know Mr. Archibald well, then? "

" Oh, everyone here knows Mr. Archibald well. He's a fatherly old gentleman. But, of course, as he said himself to Mr. Cheadle, how could he advise in a matter like that? It was highly indelicate of Woodley to put it to him, he said to Mr. Cheadle. And you really have to agree with that! And then—Cheadle told Bert—the funny thing was that Mr. Archibald had hardly left the bar when Woodley himself walks in—and starts telling Cheadle his trouble, and asking his advice! Call that manly? "

" I—I don't know."

" Well—I know what I call it. He was the worse for liquor, of course—so Cheadle said. Cheadle tells Bert Woodley's drinking whisky all the time now—and it's well known he can't afford that! "

" When will the child be born? "

" I'd say, from what I can hear, in about five months' time. She has a nerve, though! Fancy coming to the whist drive and going home like that, with just Mr. Wilson—before the whole village! No sign of Woodley anywhere. I expect the silly fool was drinking in The Horseshoe " " Perhaps she doesn't know of all the gossip—? "

" She knows every word of it, miss—believe you me. And there wasn't a person in that Hall, from the Vicar down, that wasn't watching her—and him. Brazen, I call them. But I'm a bit of a judge of character, as you know—and I'm going to tell you something I haven't mentioned to anyone yet, except Bert. It's my opinion Edith Potts is tired of Mr.

Wilson now. I'd swear it. I was watching her the other night, miss—and if I watch a person there isn't much escapes me, I will say. Well, there's a new man in the village, lodging at the Chapinans'—something to do with the Ministry of Agriculture, I think. Name of Carter. Well, I saw her eyes on him, on and off—and I'm no fool, believe you me! Someway, it nearly made me feel a bit sorry for that poor young Mr. Wilson—not that we need waste our sorrow on them that get what their conduct. deserves! "

" But if she's going to have a baby in five months—? "

" Oh, this Carter'll be around—and Edith doesn't mind waiting for what she wants. There was a queer, calm look on her face when she looked Carter's way—" " Did Mr. Wilson notice? "

" Not he! But he's just a bundle of nerves by now, it seems to me! She has him properly keyed up, has Edith! Anyway, he'll be called up to be a cadet next month, they say."

" So, when the baby is born—? "

" There's no telling where Mr. Wilson will be, miss! That's why, as I say to Bert, if Woodley does want to break his bones, he'd do better to get on with it now—instead of blubbering into his meat-van! "

" It's a sad situation."

" It's a masterpiece! That's what I say. But you'll be wanting to get on with your writing, all this time. The hot water bottle is in your bed, miss."

" Thank you, Mrs. Wick. Good-night."

" Good-night, miss."