"'Tis a shame," said Mrs. Tom warmly. She knew how compelling are strength and intensity but thought it wisest not to let her knowledge appear. The susceptibilities of young people are easily ruffled.
"I think it's wicked of him, mammy." She was righteously indignant that he should be making life so difficult, "and auntie is so good to him."
"Iss," sighed the matron, "but men's so, they can't help theirselves—poor old villains. Why don't you come 'ome with me for a bit and leave Richbell go down with your auntie?"
Gray's face brightened hopefully, then she shook her head. "I don't think Aunt S'bina would like it."
"Well, I'll talk to yer auntie about it an' tell 'er what I think."
"Don't you say nothing about what I've told you," cried youth, anxious as to the discretion of gossiping middle-age.
"You can trust me," and Gray, looking into the kind shrewd face, felt that she might.
"You know she see Uncle Leadville's tiresome but she don't think he mean anything."
"Poor sawl, no she wouldn't, of course, bein' 'is wife. He'll say one thing to she an' another thing to you."
Gray nodded. That was the way of it.