occurred—enlarging of course upon every point, and swelling each into all possible importance.
At first, Aunt Eleanor appeared to regard the whole affair as an excellent jest, and she really did enjoy the relation of the circumstances highly; but when Mary, with great force and natural feeling, stated that the miller was suspected of having taken the horse from the stable, her mistress—knowing the attachment which existed between him and Mary—felt herself bound to enquire into the matter, with the view of either clearing his character if innocent, or, in the event of his being guilty, of breaking off the match.
She, accordingly, on descending to the breakfast-room, at once summoned Judkins and cook, and as cook was the first to attend that summons, she at once told her tale, and made one deep mystery of it. Judkins, however, was not long after her, and as he had decided upon sacrificing all private feeling upon the altar of duty, he came prepared to state the whole case.
"Judkins," said Aunt Eleanor, as he entered, "how does the horse look this morning?"
"Why, he's pretty well, considering, ma'am," replied Judkins.
"Pretty well, considering—Considering what?"
"Why, ma'am, considering that in all his born days he never had such a sweating as, somehow or other, he has had since I locked him up last night.
"Oh, then," said cook, who felt greatly relieved, and who turned upon Judkins—and he fully expected it—as if she had made up her mind to have at him, "it wasn't Snorter—it couldn't be Snorter—I was having a game with you, was I—it was one of my maggots—you'll call missis, won't you—it was only a frolic of mine—you are right and I'm wrong, of course! Now I'll tell you what it is—"
"Presently, cook," interposed Aunt Eleanor, "have patience. We will hear you presently. What do you mean by the sweating, Judkins?"
"Why, ma'am, when I went into the stable this morning, I found the horse saddled, and in a muck of sweat. Whoever could have got him out, I can't think! It must have been some one who knows the premises, for the door was locked, and the key was in its right place, over the door."
"Of course," exclaimed cook, "and the miller knew well where to find it."
"Cook," said Aunt Eleanor, "how do you know that?"
"Why, ma'am, he's always after Mary, and of course she tells him all she knows."
"I know, cook, that you are jealous," said Aunt Eleanor, "but in order that the young man may have an opportunity of vindicating his character, I will send for him at once. You know him, Judkins?—go, and without mentioning a syllable to him on the subject, tell him that I shall be glad to speak to him for a moment."
Judkins, casting a look of contempt at cook, then left the room, and, as Sylvester immediately afterwards came in to breakfast, the whole
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