She had two sons - one born blind,
an' t'other struck dumb through fallin' off the Wall when
he was liddle. They was men grown, but not wage-
earnin', an' she worked for 'em, keepin' bees and
answerin' Questions.'
'What sort of questions?' said Dan.
'Like where lost things might be found, an' what to put
about a crooked baby's neck, an' how to join parted
sweethearts. She felt the Trouble on the Marsh same as
eels feel thunder. She was a wise woman.'
'My woman was won'erful weather-tender, too,' said
Hobden. 'I've seen her brish sparks like off an anvil out of
her hair in thunderstorms. But she never laid out to
answer Questions.'
'This woman was a Seeker, like, an' Seekers they
sometimes find. One night, while she lay abed, hot an'
achin', there come a Dream an' tapped at her window,
an' "Widow Whitgift," it said, "Widow Whitgift!"
'First, by the wings an' the whistlin', she thought it was
peewits, but last she arose an' dressed herself, an'
opened her door to the Marsh, an' she felt the Trouble an'
the Groanin' all about her, strong as fever an' ague, an'
she calls: "What is it? Oh, what is it?"
'Then 'twas all like the frogs in the diks peepin'; then
'twas all like the reeds in the diks clip-clappin'; an' then
the great Tide-wave rummelled along the Wall, an' she
couldn't hear proper.
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