"That's hactionable," cried the landlady savagely.
"Make it so, and take me into court. My evidence would do you no good, Mrs. Narby."
The virago saw that she had gone too far, and that the sympathies of the room were with the frail girl, who thus faced her so boldly. She fell back on whimpering. "And arter wot I've done fur 'er. Whoy, 'er mother couldn't 'ave----"
She got no further. With a disdainful look, Elspeth pushed open the door and went out into the rain, which was now falling fast. Mrs. Narby would have followed, but her husband held her back.
"You've done quite enough mischief with your tongue and fist," he said in her ear. "Get into the kitchen, or else I'll choke the life out of you, you she-demon."
Mrs. Narby stared at him, and then went off into a fit of crying and kicking, and grovelling on the floor. Narby lost no time in arguing the point, but picked up the struggling, squealing woman, and half carried, half dragged her into the back parts of the inn. And all this time Pope stared open-mouthed, as much at the daring of Elspeth as at the downfall of his hitherto redoubtable mother. And his feelings were shared by the company in the tap-room, who had long looked on Mrs. Narby as a model virago, who ought to be brought to her bearings.
"I'd best see after that girl," said Sweetlips in a low voice to the doctor. "She can't be left to wander about these marshes all night."
"What can you do for her?" questioned Browne, following the Cheap-jack to the door.
"She can come with me in the caravan to Colchester. I'm starting for that place to-morrow."
"What, will you give up----?"