"There it is! 'Twas a deep idea to stop her once and for all. How, d'you think? By letting her hear the Voice of Crazywell call out Bart's name! 'Twas planned very clever that she and Bart should actually hear it on Christmas Eve; and they would have done so, but for the fog that kept 'em to the road. Instead, as luck would have it, your mother of all people, hears the Voice. And now, as far as I can gather, those in the secret--or some of them--hearing how she's taking on, begin to be a bit uneasy--as well they may."
"Oh, Bartley!"
"'Tis true; but we must go to work witty and catch the sinner himself. 'Sinner' I call him, yet that's too strong a word belike. All that really matters is for you to tell your mother 'twas nonsense, and that a man lay hid by the pool, and that 'twas never meant to fret her to fiddle-strings about it."
Margaret jumped to her feet.
"Sit down," he said. "Can't let you off like this before I've been here two minutes. We'll go up over to Coombeshead together presently. Must talk a bit first. An hour more or less won't make no difference to your mother."
She sat by him and put her hand on his arm. Then she bent and kissed his hand impulsively.
"You've paid me after all!" he laughed.
"I'd give you your heart's desire and the keys of heaven, if I could," she answered. "This is the best fortune that's come to me for many, many a long day; and I bless you for bringing it."
"Thought you'd be pleased. But tell 'em to say nought yet. I'm putting my mind into it, for I've got nothing to do now but twiddle my thumbs and wait till I can decently go to her--Rhoda--for the third and last time of asking. I doubt 'tis a vain thing, though. She likes me less and less, I believe."
"I hope not; but this I know: she likes me less and less."