"Nay, now, there isn't that much hurry, is there?" she demanded sharply. "Yon old horse o' yourn'll barely have stretched his legs. Your master and mine'd have a deal to say to each other an' all." She paused a moment, creaking from foot to foot, and staring irresolutely at the mask-like face. "You talked a deal o' stuff in t'other room, Sarah," she broke out at last, "but I reckon you meant nowt by it, after all?"
Sarah wanted to chuckle again, but was forced to deny herself the pleasure. For appearance' sake she stiffened her back, and bristled a little at Eliza's tone.
"Ay, but I did!" she retorted briskly, her voice firm. "Whatever else should I mean, I'd like to know?"
The strong hope that had sprung in Eliza's heart died down again before this brazen show.
"You can't rightly know what you're saying, Sarah," she said coldly, "you can't, indeed! Geordie coming after all these years,--nay, now, yon isn't true!"
"Ay, but it is, I tell ye,--true enough! True as yon Sunday fringe o' yourn as you bought in Witham!"
"And wi' brass, you said?" Eliza let the flippant remark pass without notice, and Sarah nodded. "A deal o' brass?"
"Yon's what he says."
"Eh, well, I never did!" The angry wind of her sigh passed over Sarah's head and rustled the honesty in a vase behind. She repeated "I never did!" and creaked away from the enemy towards the window. Behind her, Geordie's mother allowed the ghost of a smile to find a fleeting resting-place on her lips.
"And so he's on his road home, is he,--coming right back?" Mrs. Will kept her back turned, thinking hard as she spoke. There was no section of Sarah's statement but she intended to prove by the inch. "Ay, well, it's what they mostly do when they've made their brass."