"You are very good, dame," said Betty, curtsying.
Mrs. Gaunt then hurried away, and Betty looked after her very expressively, and shook her head. She had a female instinct that mischief was brewing.
Mrs. Gaunt went home in a reverie.
At the gate she found her husband, and asked him to take a turn in the garden with her.
He complied; and she intended to tell him a portion, at least, of what had occurred. She began timidly, after this fashion——"My dear, Brother Leonard is so grateful for your flowers," and then hesitated.
"I'm sure he is very welcome," said Griffith. "Why doesn't he sup with us and be sociable, as Father Francis used? Invite him; let him know he will be welcome."
Sirs. Gaunt blushed; and objected, "He never calls on us."
"Well, well, every man to his taste," said Griffith, indifferently, and proceeded to talk to her about his farm, and a sorrel mare with a white mane and tail, that he had seen, and thought it would suit her.
She humoured him, and affected a great interest in all this, and had not the courage to force the other topic on.
Next Sunday morning, after a very silent breakfast, she burst out, almost violently, "Griffith, I shall go to the parish church with you, and then we will dine together afterwards."