“Oh, here’s a woman for you!” cried the unfortunate Rob, in an outburst of feeble lamentation over his own helplessness. “What did you wish to know next, Misses Brown?”
“What became of Master? Where did he go?” she inquired, still holding him tight, and looking close into his face, with her sharp eyes.
“Upon my soul, I don’t know, Misses Brown,” answered Rob. “Upon my soul I don’t know what he did, nor where he went, nor anything about him I only know what he said to me as a caution to hold my tongue, when we parted; and I tell you this, Misses Brown, as a friend, that sooner than ever repeat a word of what we’re saying now, you had better take and shoot yourself, or shut yourself up in this house, and set it a-fire, for there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, to be revenged upon you. You don’t know him half as well as I do, Misses Brown. You’re never safe from him, I tell you.”
“Haven’t I taken an oath,” retorted the old woman, “and won’t I keep it?”
“Well, I’m sure I hope you will, Misses Brown,” returned Rob, somewhat doubtfully, and not without a latent threatening in his manner. “For your own sake, quite as much as mine.”
He looked at her as he gave her this friendly caution, and emphasized it with a nodding of his head; but finding it uncomfortable to encounter the yellow face with its grotesque action, and the ferret eyes with their keen old wintry gaze, so close to his own, he looked down uneasily and sat skulking in his chair, as if he were trying to bring himself to a sullen declaration that he would answer no more questions. The old woman, still holding him as before, took this opportunity of raising the forefinger of her right hand, in the air, as a stealthy signal to the concealed observer to give particular attention to what was about to follow.
“Rob,” she said, in her most coaxing tone.
“Good gracious, Misses Brown, what’s the matter now?” returned the exasperated Grinder.
“Rob! where did the lady and Master appoint to meet?”
Rob shuffled more and more, and looked up and looked down, and bit his thumb, and dried it on his waistcoat, and finally said, eyeing his tormentor askance, “How should I know, Misses Brown?”