“And I saw thee trailing through the low meadows with Bradley’s son.”
“And went out t’ varry next morning, to meet thee in t’ low meadow.”
“If you say, he happened to meet me in the low meadow, it would be better.”
“Whativer hed the lad to do in my meadow so early in the morning?”
“I call it too early for thee to be traipsing through t’ wet grass with Henry Bradley.”
“Let us keep to facts, dear father. The grass was quite dry--too dry. Joel was wishing for rain; he said, ‘Master so pampered his cattle, that they perfectly thought scorn of half-cured grass.’”
“Thou art trying to slip by my question and I’m not going to let thee do it. What was John Henry Bradley doing wi’ thee in the low meadow this morning?”
“He brought me a letter from my brother Dick. Dick and Harry have been in London together, and they stayed four days with Aunt Josepha. They liked her very much. They took her to the opera and the play and she snubbed O’Connell and some other famous men and told them to let her alone, that she had two innocent lads in her care--and so on. You know.”
“You should not ask me a question of that kind, dad.”
“Thou need not tell me, what I should, or should not do. I hed learned all that, before thou wer born. And I’ll tell thee plainly that I will not hev any lovemaking between thee and Harry Bradley.”
“Very well, father. If you are going to the stable will you tell someone to have my saddle horse at the door in half-an-hour?”
“To be sure, I will. If tha wants a ride and will go to Yoden Bridge, I’ll go with thee.”
“I would like that but I promised to help Faith Foster, who is making clothing for the naked, shivering babies in Annis village. When Oddy’s little girl died a week ago, there wasn’t a night-gown in the house to bury it in. Its mother tore a breadth out of her one petticoat and folded her baby in it.”
“Oh, Katherine Annis! Surely that tale is not true!” cried Madam.
“Alas, it is too true! The baby’s one little gown was not fit even for the grave.”
The Squire sat down and covered his face with his hands and when Katherine left the room he looked up pitifully at his wife. And she stooped and kissed him and as she did so comforted him with broken words of affection and assurances that it was not his fault--“thou hast pinched us all a bit to keep the cottage looms busy,” she said, “thou couldn’t do more than that, could thou, Antony?”