“Did you go Banbury way?”
“No, t’other way,” answered Stephen, without indicating which other way.
“Weather sharp, wasn’t it?”
“Ay, sharp enough. It’s like to be a hard winter.—Well, Aunt, I’m much obliged to you. I reckon I’d best be turning home now.”
“Weather rather sharp there too, perhaps?” suggested Haimet jocosely.
“Ay, there’s been a bit of a storm since I got back. I came here to get out of it. I’m a fair-weather-lover, as you know.”
Stephen went home by a round-about way, for he took Saint John’s anchorhold in the route. He scarcely knew why he did it; he had an idea that the sight of Derette would be an agreeable diversion of his thoughts. Too deep down to be thoroughly realised, was a vague association of her with Ermine, whose chief friend in the family she had been.
Derette came to the casement as soon as she heard from Leuesa who was there.
“Good evening, Stephen!” she said cordially. “Leuesa, my maid, while I chat a minute with my cousin, prithee tie on thine hood and run for a cheese. I forgot it with the other marketing this morrow. What are cheeses now? a halfpenny each?”
“Three a penny, Lady, they were yesterday.”