But Mrs. Mumby tidied up, and came downstairs again with her best bonnet in her hand; and still she found the plate untouched. And all the afternoon she worked away at her shirt-fronts; but still no Bill came in.
Presently she made the tea, and had a cup, setting the pot to keep warm on the hob. And six o'clock brought Mumby home; but still no Bill.
"It's just like he's got scent of it," said she. "A boy like him won't stand to be corrected while he got legs to run away."
Up at the Manor House they were so less perplexed.
Young Grantley had stowed his easel at the farm, and hurried in to dinner, all anxiety to hear what had been done. But all the Squire could tell him, was that neither Mrs. Mumby nor the boy had been.
"It's my opinion, grandfather," said Will, "that Mrs. Mumby has changed her mind. She's like a silly mother; doesn't want him punished. That's the fact of it."
"You oughtn't to have spoken out so plain," said Sigismund. "You've frightened her. You take my word; she's hiding Bill."
In this conviction, they all retired for the night.
Next morning, just as breakfast was concluded, a servant came to say that, "Mrs. Mumby, from the cottages beyond the Manor Farm," was waiting in the hall.
Mrs. Mumby's face was drowned in tears.