“It was Elizabeth Jenkins, and she said—”
“Well, what did she say?”
“I know it’s all nonsense, and you mustn’t be angry, Tom—but she said you often went to Woodside Farm; that you—were running after Miss Churchill, in fact.”
The flush deepened on young Henderson’s face.
“Oh! that I was running after her, was I? Well, I haven’t caught her yet, Elsie,” he said, with an uneasy laugh.
“Oh, don’t jest about it, Tom, don’t laugh; it was a cruel thing to say—cruel to me.”
The young man did not speak; he cast his brown eyes down on the path; he moved the arm restlessly with which he was carrying his gun.
“Of course she just said it from spite—just because she knew—” continued the girl, hesitatingly.
Then Henderson looked up.
“What does she know, Elsie?” he said, glancing at the girl’s face.