"Yes, sir, and got off at Tip Top, where I hired a horse to bring me here. I must ask you to let one of your men take him back to Mr. Merry at the Antler's Inn to-morrow."
"Surely, surely, lad! Wool shall do it!"
"And so, Herbert, the poor woman was delighted at the prospect of better times?" said Old Hurricane, with a little glow of benevolent self-satisfaction.
"Oh, yes, sir; delighted beyond all measure!"
"Poor thing! poor thing! See, young folks, how easy it is for the wealthy, by sparing a little of their superfluous means, to make the poor and virtuous happy! And the boy, Herbert, the boy?"
"Oh, sir! delighted for himself, but still more delighted for his mother; for her joy was such as to astonish and even alarm me! Before that I had thought Marah Rocke a proud woman, but——"
"What!—say that again!" exclaimed Major Warfield. "I say that I thought she was a proud woman, but——"
"Thought who was a proud woman, sir?" roared Old Hurricane.
"Marah Rocke!" replied the young man, with wonder.
Major Warfield started up, seized the chair upon which he had sat and struck it upon the ground with such force as to shatter it to pieces; then turning, he strode up and down the floor with such violence that the two young people gazed after him in consternation and fearful expectancy. Presently he turned suddenly, strode up to Herbert Greyson and stood before him.