“Hearing whom?” exclaimed Ann, almost dropping her work, whilst the blood rushed up to her face.
“Mr. Ewart, the clergyman who has been so kind, the tutor to Lord Fontonore.”
“Lord Fontonore! does he live here?” cried Ann, almost trembling with excitement as she spoke.
“I do not know exactly where he lives. I should think it some way off, as the carriage was put up at the inn. Did you ever see the clergyman, mother?”
“He used to visit at my last place,” replied Ann, looking distressed.
“I think I’ve heard father talk about Lord Fontonore,” said Madge.
“No, you never did,” cried Ann, abruptly.
“But I’m sure of it,” muttered Madge in a sullen tone.
“If you know the clergyman, that’s good luck for us,” said Ben. “I daresay that he’ll give us money if we get up a good story about you; only he’s precious sharp at finding one out. He wanted to pay us a visit.”
“Don’t bring him here; for any sake don’t bring him here!” exclaimed Ann, looking quite alarmed. “You don’t know the mischief, the ruin you would bring. I never wish to set eyes upon that man.”