"These songs for Miss Pryse, with deep gratitude for all her kindness to Hermann Engelhardt."
It was a pale, set face that Mrs. Potter found awaiting her in the breakfast-room when the toast was ready and the tea made. Very little of the toast was eaten, and Mrs. Potter saw no more of her young mistress until the mid-day meal, to which Naomi sat down in her riding-habit.
"Just wait, Mrs. Potter," said she, hastily helping herself to a chop. "Take a chair yourself. I want to speak to you."
"Very good, miss," said the old lady, sitting down.
"I want to know when you last set eyes on Sam Rowntree."
"Let me see, miss. Oh, yes, I remember; it was about this time yesterday. He came to the kitchen, and told me he was going to run up a fresh mob of killing-sheep out of Top Scrubby, and how much meat could I do with? I said half a sheep, at the outside, and that was the last I saw of him."
"He never came near you last night?"
"That he didn't, miss. I was looking out for him. I wanted——"
"You didn't see him in the distance, or hear him whistling?"