It was some time before the two were composed enough to say much about anything. Sally roused herself first, for she suddenly recollected that she had orders to be quick back. She had been sent out for milk for the nursery.
"I must run, mother," she said hurriedly, "or Mary Crane will nag at me;" and she made as if to go.
"Wait a moment, Sally dear," her mother answered. "I had nearly forgotten what I came for; A-dear! a-dear! you mustn't stand no more of Mary Crane's naggings, Sally; an' if she begins to-day, you're to give up the place and coom home. Now, mind, Sally," she added, eagerly, "that will be best, give up your place;" for Sally seemed to shrink from the idea of coming home.
"But father——he"——
"It was father as said it, Sally dear. Father says you must coom home. He can't a-bear to see you suffering and abused in this big house as you've been so wronged in; an' ye'll do what father wishes, won't you, my pet?"
"Is it really true, mother. Are you sure that father will let me coom home?"
"My dear, he sent me to tell ye. Oh, say ye'll coom home, Sally?"
"But father'll be angry with me and scold me, mother, and I can't abide that—oh, I can't, I can't," and Sally shook her head despairingly, the gleam of hope vanishing from her eyes.
"No, Sally, your father wonnot scold ye. Surely you know him better nor that. He is too heart-broke about ye a' ready to have any scoldings left, an' he was never hard to ye. Coom, now; say you'll give up the place, and it will be all right."
This and much more the mother said, pleading as for her daughter's life, and she won her point. Once Sally's dread of her father was somewhat removed, she caught eagerly at the prospect of escape from the Grange. Any change would be like going from Hell to Heaven that would take her away from that place of torment. So anxious was she to get away, once her mind became fixed, that she never once thought of the burden she would be to her parents. But for the inexorable month's warning, she would have taken flight that night.