‘She’s ould, thin?’—anxiously.
‘She is not young.’
Mrs. Moriarty shakes her head with the air of one who would say: ‘We all know what that means.’
‘Is she kind-hearted, sir? Miss Ella is terrible timid-like.’
‘Certainly she is kind. But, of course, she will expect “Miss Ella,” as you call her, to follow her lead in most ways. I’—with meaning—‘shall take care she is not interfered with in any way. I hope you quite understand all this.’
‘I understhand, yer honour. She’s ould an’ cross, an’ Miss Ella is to follow her about everywhere. But’—with a last lingering remnant of hope—‘she won’t be comin’ for a while, sir, will she?’
‘She is coming on Thursday.’
‘Oh, murther!’ says Mrs. Moriarty sotto voce, as he shuts the gate behind him.
CHAPTER XXIX.
‘Ther is ful many a man that crieth, “Werre, werre,” that wat ful litel what werre amounteth. Werre at his begynnyng hath so greet an entre and so large, that everywight may entre when him liketh and lightly find werre; but certes what ende schal falle thereof, it is not lightly to knowe!’