The latch lifted, and their parish priest entered, Doctor Adam Tonstal.
“Good even to you, my worthy friends; I have come for a chat with you about a matter of importance.”
“Nothing amiss about Cuthbert, I hope,” said the old dame, anxiously.
“No, there is naught amiss, yet still my errand is about him. Are you not expecting him home?”
“Yes, thank God, this very night; we thought when you knocked that it was he.”
“Well, I know you will be glad to see him again, for he is a worthy lad, and there are few who have not a good word for him, but it will be just as well not to let anyone know of his arrival, and to get him away again as soon as possible. My object was to warn you against allowing him to return, and also to advise you not to tell anyone where he may be found.”
“But why,” inquired Giles, aghast, as soon as he could get a word in; “what harm hath the poor lad done?”
“Harm, forsooth!” then lowering his voice, “what harm had Richard Whiting done?”
“But Cuthbert is too young to be answerable for such weighty matters.”