“So you’ve really come back at last! Well, I did wonder what you’d gone after! Such lots of folks have asked me—old Turguia, and Franna, and Aunt Isel, and Derette—leastwise Leuesa—and ever such a lot: and I couldn’t tell ne’er a one of them a single word about it.”
Anania spoke in the tone of an injured woman, defrauded of her rights by the malice prepense of Stephen.
“Well,” said Stephen calmly, “you may tell them all that I went after my own business; and if any of them thinks that’s what a man shouldn’t do, she can come and tell me so.”
“Well, to be sure! But what business could you have to carry you out of the town for such a time, and nobody to know a word about it? Tell me that, if you please.”
“Don’t you tell her nought!” said Osbert in the chimney-corner. “If you went to buy a new coat, she’ll want to know where the money was minted, and who sheared the sheep.”
“I’ll finish my pie first, I think,” answered Stephen, “for I am rather too hungry for talk; and I dare say she’ll take no harm by that.”
He added, in mental reservation,—“And meantime I can be thinking what to say.”
“Oh, you never want to know nought!” exclaimed Anania derisively. “Turguia, she said you were gone after rabbits—as if any man in his senses would do that in the snow: and Aunt Isel thought you were off on a holiday; and Franna was certain sure you were gone a-courting.”
Stephen laughed to himself, but made no other reply.
“Baint you a-going to tell me, now?” demanded Anania.