“ It isn’t the glass this time, then,” thought Mrs Tulliver.
“ Died the day before yesterday,” continued Mrs Pullet; “an’ her legs was as thick as my body,” she added, with deep sadness, after a pause. “They’d tapped her no end o’ times, and the water—they say you might ha’ swum in it, if you’d liked.”
“ Well, Sophy, it’s a mercy she’s gone, then, whoever she may be,” said Mrs Glegg, with the promptitude and emphasis of a mind naturally clear and decided; “but I can’t think who you’re talking of, for my part.”
“ But I know,” said Mrs Pullet, sighing and shaking her head; “and there isn’t another such a dropsy in the parish. I know as it’s old Mrs Sutton o’ the Twentylands.”
“ Well, she’s no kin o’ yours, nor much acquaintance as I’ve ever heared of,” said Mrs Glegg
