"Did he, really! How kind of him to give his mind to my humble affairs," exclaimed Helen, with an irony entirely lost upon her cousin, who was now fighting her way through a small forest of currant bushes, and discoursing as fluently as if she was sitting in an arm-chair.
"Yes; he said it was either of two things—Helen, mind your eyes with that branch! Either—I'll give you his own words—either you were mortal ugly, or you had had a love affair, and the pigs ran through it—meaning a disappointment, you know."
Helen winced as though she had been struck, and if her companion had happened to glance round, she would have been astonished at the colour of her face;—a sudden deep blush suffused it from chin to brow. She told herself passionately that dislike was far too weak a term to apply to this country clown, whose clumsy curiosity had probed her secret to the very core. This to herself; but aloud she merely said,—
"Your cousin Barry must be blessed with a rich imagination?"
"Oh, no! he is not a bit clever; but he is uncommonly sharp. He rather prides himself——"
Whatever he prided himself upon was not to be disclosed at present, for a sudden turn brought them close to Dido, who called out,—
"I thought I saw your heads above that thicket! I have to go to the Cross, to speak to Darby: would you care to come, Helen? You may as well learn all the geography of the place at once."
To this suggestion she promptly assented, and in a few minutes was walking down the neatly-kept front avenue, whose gates opened on the Cross (or cross-road); the middle of which amply testified to the indefatigable dancing that took place on Sundays (for "Crowmore Cross" was what the assembly-rooms would be in some populous, fashionable neighbourhood). A dozen cottages were scattered about, and the windows of one of them exhibited two long clay pipes, some red and white candy, and a ball of worsted, and on the strength of this rich display was called "the shop." Dido halted at the door of a comfortable slated house, and called out over the half-door,—
"Is Darby within, Mrs. Chute?"
"No, me lady, he is not," replied a little, withered old woman, dropping a curtsey; then, as her eye fell upon Katie and Helen, she said, "An' this is your cousin from England? The Lord spare you your health, Miss."