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VI. The Fair—The Journey—The Fire

           Theinquiringfarmerwouldedgeawayandshakehisheaddubiously.Gabriel,likehisdog,wastoogoodtobetrustworthy,andhenevermadeadvancebeyondthispoint.

           Itissafertoacceptanychancethatoffersitself,andextemporizeaproceduretofitit,thantogetagoodplanmatured,andwaitforachanceofusingit.Gabrielwishedhehadnotnaileduphiscoloursasashepherd,buthadlaidhimselfoutforanythinginthewholecycleoflabourthatwasrequiredinthefair.Itgrewdusk.Somemerrymenwerewhistlingandsingingbythecorn-exchange.Gabriel’shand,whichhadlainforsometimeidleinhissmock-frockpocket,touchedhisflutewhichhecarriedthere.Herewasanopportunityforputtinghisdearlyboughtwisdomintopractice.

           Hedrewouthisfluteandbegantoplay"JockeytotheFair"inthestyleofamanwhohadneverknownmoment’ssorrow.OakcouldpipewithArcadiansweetness,andthesoundofthewell-knownnotescheeredhisownheartaswellasthoseoftheloungers.Heplayedonwithspirit,andinhalfanhourhadearnedinpencewhatwasasmallfortunetoadestituteman.

           BymakinginquirieshelearntthattherewasanotherfairatShottsfordthenextday.

           "HowfarisShottsford?"

           "Tenmilest’othersideofWeatherbury."

           Weatherbury!ItwaswhereBathshebahadgonetwomonthsbefore.Thisinformationwaslikecomingfromnightintonoon.

           "HowfarisittoWeatherbury?"

           "Fiveorsixmiles.

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