They began to see light dawning on the mystery.
“A letter to whom, Charity? and who writ it?”
“To Mestur Marshall: and Mrs Joyce Morrell writ it—leastwise her man did, at her bidding.”
“What said it?”
“I didn’t read it, Sir,” responded Charity, demurely.
“Come, I reckon you know what was in it,” said Mr Lewthwaite. “Out with it, Charity.”
“Come forward into the room, Charity, and tell your tale like a man,” said Temperance.
“I amn’t a man, Mrs Temperance,” answered Charity, doing as she was bid: “but I’ll tell it like a woman. Well, when I were with Mrs Joyce, afore we came hither, hoo gave me a letter,—let’s see! nay, it were two letters, one lapped of a green paper, and one of a white. And hoo said, as soon as yo’ geet (got) here, I were to ask my way to Shoe Lane, just outside o’ th’ City gate, and gi’e th’ letter i’ th’ white paper to Mestur Marshall. And th’ green un I were to keep safe by me, till it came—if it did come—that my Lady lacked a coach either to journey home or to Minster Lovel, and when I heard that, I were to carry it to Mestur Marshall too. So I did as I were bid. What were i’ th’ letters I cannot tell you, but Mestur Marshall come to see you as soon as he geet th’ white un, and when he geet th’ green un come ’Zekiel wi’ th’ coach and th’ tits. Mrs Joyce, hoo said hoo were feared nobry’d tell her if a coach were wanted, and that were why she gave me th’ letter. So now you know as much as I know: and I hope you’re weel pleased wi’ it: and if you please, what am I to say to ’Zekiel?”
“Dear Aunt Joyce!” said Edith under her breath.
“Make Ezekiel comfortable, Charity,” said Lady Louvaine, as she drew off her glasses and wiped them: “and on Monday we will talk over the matter and come to some decision thereupon.”