"Whatever was it, then?"
"I don't think she 'ud like for me to say anything about it."
Mrs. Tom had successfully aroused her friend's curiosity and Sabina clapped her arm impatiently. "I'm sure Gray wouldn't mind you tellin' me of't."
"No, p'raps she wouldn't, still 'tis a awkward thing to say to 'ee."
"Never mind for that. I reckon I can listen to what you can say."
"Well, my dear." Mrs. Tom hitched her chair nearer to the trolly and lowered her voice. "Jim 'ad gone over to Treketh to see his mother and the maid was to home and she wouldn't leave 'er father see 'er back 'ere, said she'd be all right by 'erself. An' as she was comin' along, something rustled in the 'edge. 'Twas one of they dark nights and she couldn't see, but she thought 'twas a bullock."
"Iss?" Sabina's mind, by now ready for it, leaped to the natural conclusion. Leadville was trying to meet Gray on the quiet.
"And some one springed out and catched 'old of er and just about pulled the clothes off 'er back, they did," was Mrs. Tom's startling end to the story.
"My dear life! You don't mean to say so?" This was worse than she had feared; presented her, indeed, with a new and surprising view of her husband.
"I dunno 'owever she got away from 'im."