“Sarah, does your master often come home early from market when it is wet?”
“Never, hardly; but just to-day, for some reason, he has made a difference.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is come: I am certain I saw Murgatroyd lead his horse into the yard by the back-way, when I went to get some water at the pump five minutes since. He was in the counting-house with Joe Scott, I believe.”
“You are mistaken.”
“What should I be mistaken for? I know his horse, surely?”
“But you did not see himself?”
“I heard him speak, though. He was saying something to Joe Scott about having settled all concerning ways and means, and that there would be a new set of frames in the mill before another week passed; and that this time he would get four soldiers from Stilbro’ barracks to guard the waggon.”
“Sarah, are you making a gown?”
“Yes: is it a handsome one?”
“Beautiful! Get the coffee ready. I’ll finish cutting out that sleeve for you; and I’ll give you some trimming for it. I have some narrow satin ribbon of a colour that will just match it.”
“You’re very kind, Miss.”
“Be quick, there’s a good girl; but first put your master’s shoes on the hearth: he will take his boots off when he comes in. I hear him—he is coming.”
