"A lucky chance this," declared Bartley. "I'm just going up to Ditsworthy myself to see Mrs. Bowden. My dear mother's weaker and she wants to have a talk with her old friends before 'tis too late."
"I'll tell mother for you," said Rhoda. "Only last Sunday she was wondering if Mrs. Crocker would care for to see her."
"I must tell her myself and carry back her message to my mother," answered the crafty lover. His parent had expressed no desire whatever to see Sarah Bowden; but the excuse came as an inspiration to the man.
Rhoda said nothing and he spoke again.
"Perhaps if you are going that way, you won't be offended if I walk along with you?"
She shook her head, implying that he was welcome.
"I've gathered a bit more about the backwoods and the life out in the Dominion of Canada, you must know. And I was wondering if, among all your brothers, there might not be one, or perhaps two, as would like to make their fortunes there. 'Tis a pity for all to bide on the Moor."
"So I think," said she. "For men to be cooped up, like chickens on a run, is a vain thing. I'd much wish for to see them go out in the world a bit--same as other young men."
"If your brother Drake had been spared, I'm sure he'd have gone," said Crocker, with a twinkle of the eye.
Madge saw the jest, but Rhoda quite failed to do so.