“I’ve just been takin’ a sup o’ tea with laal ’Becca Rudd.  It’s early to go home, but, as I says to my Joey, there’s no place like it; and nowther is there.  It’s like ye’ve found that yersel’, lass, afore this.”

There was an insinuating sneer in the tone in which Mrs. Garth uttered her last words.  Getting no response, she added,—­

“And yer fadder, I reckon he’s found it out too, bein’ so lang beholden to others.  I met the poor man on the road awhile ago.”

“It’s cold and sappy, Mrs. Garth.  Good night,” said Rotha.

“Poor man, he has to scrat now,” said Mrs. Garth, regardless of Rotha’s adieu.  “I reckon he’s none gone off for a spoag; he’s none gone for a jaunt.”

The woman was angry at Rotha’s silence, and, failing to conciliate the girl, she was determined to hold her by other means.  Rotha perceived the purpose, and wondered within herself why she did not go.

“But he’s gone on a bootless errand, I tell ye,” continued Mrs. Garth.

“What errand?” It was impossible to resist the impulse to probe the woman’s meaning.

Mrs. Garth laughed.  It was a cruel laugh, with a crow of triumph in it.

“Yer waxin’ apace, lass; I reckon ye think ye’ll be amang the next batch of weddiners,” said Mrs. Garth.

Rotha was not slow to see the connection of this scarcely relevant observation.  Did the woman know on what errand her father had set out?  Had she guessed it?  And if so, what matter?

“I wish the errand had been mine instead,” said Rotha calmly.  But it was an unlucky remark.

“Like enough.  Now, that’s very like,” said Mrs. Garth with affected sincerity.  “Ye’ll want to see him badly, lass; he’s been lang away.  Weel, it’s nought but nature.  He’s a very personable young man.  There’s no sayin’ aught against it.  Yes, he’s of the bettermer sort, that way.”

Of what use was it to continue this idle gossip?  Rotha was again turning about, when Mrs. Garth added, half as comment and half as question,—­

“And likely ye’ve never had the scribe of a line from him sin’ he left.  But he’s no wanter; he’ll never marry ye, lass, so ye need never set heart on him.”

Rotha stepped close to the woman and looked into her face.  What wickedness was now brewing?

“Nay, saucer een,” said Mrs. Garth with a snirt, “art tryin’ to skiander me like yon saucy baggish, laal Liza?”

“Come, Mrs. Garth, let us understand one another,” said Rotha solemnly.  “What is it you wish to tell me?  You said my father had gone on a bootless errand.  What do you know about it?  Tell me, and don’t torment me, woman.”

“Nay, then, I’ve naught to say.  Naught but that Ralph Ray is on the stormy side of the hedge this time.”

Mrs. Garth laughed again.

“He is in trouble, that is true; but what has he done to you that you should be glad at his misfortunes?”