“I don’t understand you, Mrs Molly.”
“No, my dear, very like you don’t. Well, you’ll find out when you’ve shot ’em. You’re only a passenger; no blame to you if you don’t come out alive.”
“Who’s rowing, Molly?” asked Rhoda.
“Somebody that isn’t used to handling the oars,” said Molly. “And if she don’t get a hole stove in—Glad ’tis no concern of mine!”
“How does Gatty now?” asked Rhoda.
“O she is very well, I thank you,” replied Betty.
“Is she promised yet?”
“Dear, no,” said Betty, in a pitying tone.
“Rank cruelty, only to think on it,” said Molly. “She’ll just come in, as pat as vinegar to lettuce, to keep you company in the Maidens’ Lodge, my beloved Rhoda.”
Rhoda’s lip trembled slightly, but she asked, quietly enough—