'Ay, he's better, but life's uncertain, special after gun-shot wounds.'
'He acted very fine,' said Sylvia, meditating.
'A allays knowed he would. Many's the time a've heerd him say "honour bright," and now he's shown how bright his is.'
Molly did not speak sentimentally, but with a kind of proprietorship in Kinraid's honour, which confirmed Sylvia in her previous idea of a mutual attachment between her and her cousin. Considering this notion, she was a little surprised at Molly's next speech.
'An' about yer cloak, are you for a hood or a cape? a reckon that's the question.'
'Oh, I don't care! tell me more about Kinraid. Do yo' really think he'll get better?'
'Dear! how t' lass takes on about him. A'll tell him what a deal of interest a young woman taks i' him!'
From that time Sylvia never asked another question about him. In a somewhat dry and altered tone, she said, after a little pause—
'I think on a hood. What do you say to it?'
'Well; hoods is a bit old-fashioned, to my mind. If 't were mine, I'd have a cape cut i' three points, one to tie on each shoulder, and one to dip down handsome behind. But let yo' an' me go to Monkshaven church o' Sunday, and see Measter Fishburn's daughters, as has their things made i' York, and notice a bit how they're made. We needn't do it i' church, but just scan 'em o'er i' t' churchyard, and there'll be no harm done. Besides, there's to be this grand burryin' o' t' man t' press-gang shot, and 't will be like killing two birds at once.'