“Come, now, haven’t you had talk enough?” said he. “You’ve a tongue as long as from here to Banbury Cross. You’d best be going home, Anania, for Osbert’s as cross as two sticks, and he’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Oh dear, one never has a bit of peace! I did think I could have sat a while, and had a nice chat.”
“It won’t be so nice if you keep Osbert waiting, I can tell you.”
Anania rose with evident reluctance, and gathered her mantle round her.
“Well, good-day, Aunt Isel! I’ll send you down the holy-thistle. Good-day, Flemild. Aren’t you coming with me, Stephen?”
“No; I want to wait for Uncle Manning.”
“Stephen, I’m obliged to you for ever and ever! If she’d stayed another minute, I should have flown at her!”
“You looked as if you’d come to the end of your patience,” said Stephen, smiling, but gravely; “and truly, I don’t wonder. But what’s this about holy-thistle? Are you sick, Aunt Isel?”
Isel looked searchingly into her nephew’s face.
“You look true,” she said; “I think you might be trusted, Stephen.”