"'Cause I warn't certain," retorted the old woman, promptly. "'Twas a nasty case, and I didn't want to be mixed up in it more'n I could help. I said as little as I could, and afterwards, when that Lady Wyke come and see me----
"Did she come and see you?" interposed Claudia, anxiously.
"Don't I say she did, cuss you?" growled Mrs. Vence hoarsely. "Of course she come and see me, to arsk if I know'd of anything likely to show who killed her old man. I told her what I told you, and she said as I'd better keep silent till she wanted me."
"She intended to accuse my father, then?"
"Yus. I s'pose so, when she was ready. And I thinks," added Mrs. Vence, with a dry cough, "as she's gitting ready; for she's arsked me down to Hedgerton at the end of the week--four days off, that is, miss."
"Are you going?"
"How can I say. If the inflewenzy lets me. I may. It means money in my pocket, and, not having a sitivation for months, I want money."
"What have you to say?" demanded Claudia, sternly.
"Say? The truth!" snarled Mrs. Vence, crossly. "And don't arsk me to say anything else, I beg, my mother having bin a Baptist and perticler proper."
"What is the truth?" "Well, your par was in the droring-room with the barnit when he come, and I crep up to listen to what they was saying, as I don't hold with folk heving secrets fro' me. I had my eye and my ear at the keyhole time and time about."