“I know,” said Deborah, “that I get so faint at heart that I am forced to be taking something all day long to keep about at all!”
By this time they were re-entering the hall, when there was a sound from the kitchen as of someone calling. Deborah instantly turned, screaming out joyfully, “Bless me! is it you?” and though out of sight, her voice was still heard in its high notes of joy. “You good-for-nothing rogue! are you turned up again like a bad tester, staring into the kitchen like a great oaf, as you be?”
There was a general laugh, and Eleanor said, “That must be Diggory.”
“A poor country clown,” said Lady Woodley, “whom we sent to join my son’s troop. I hope he is in no danger.”
“Oh no,” said Mr. Enderby; “he has only to return to his plough.”
“Hollo there!” shouted Walter. “Come in, Diggory, and show yourself.”
In came Diggory, an awkward thick-set fellow, with a shock head of hair, high leathern gaiters, and a buff belt over his rough leathern jerkin. There he stood, pulling his forelock, and looking sheepish.
“Come in, Diggory,” said his mistress; “I am glad to see you safe. You need not be afraid of these gentlemen. Where are the rest?”
“Slain, every man of them, an’t please your ladyship.”
“And your master, Mr. Woodley?”