“May thy beard be shaven! I was just dropping off. Well?”
It had taken Abraham a long while to summon up his courage to make what he felt would be to Licorice an unwelcome communication. He was rather dismayed to find it so badly received at the first step.
“Do go on, thou weariest of old jackdaws! I’m half asleep.”
“I have spoken to the child, Licorice.”
“As if thou couldst not have said that half an hour ago! Well, how do matters stand?”
“There is one person in particular whom she is sorry to leave.”
“Of course there is! I saw that as plain as the barber’s pole across the street. Didn’t I tell thee so? Is it some young Christian gallant, and who is he? Blessed be the memory of Abraham our father!—why did we ever let that girl go to Bury?”
“It is not as thou art fearing, wife. But—it is worse.”
“Worse!” Licorice seemed wide awake enough now. “Why, what could there be worse, unless she had married a Christian, or had abjured her faith?”
“Wife, this is worse. She has seen—him.”