Tregenna piled the bales up together, mounted on them, and having thus brought his head near the level of the floor, listened intently.
The two speakers had by this time come to the hearth, and it was possible to distinguish most of their words. Tom was displeased with her reception of himself.
“Well, Ann, ’twas no such easy matter for me to get up the hill to tell thee, and I reckoned for sure on a word of thanks. ’Tis well to be prepared when visitors come so late; and, as I tell thee, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“’Tis but the parson, maybe, called out to see some one that’s ill or dying.”
“Ay, maybe ’tis he, for ’tis a horse that may be his by the look of him. But it may be the lieutenant, come to see what’s toward; and, in that case, you’d do well to put those kegs out of sight, and give warning to the lads to keep close till he’s gone.”
There was a pause. Ann made no answer. By the angry tone in which Tom presently went on speaking, Tregenna guessed that she had smiled, or made some gesture which aroused the lover’s suspicions.
“Well, why dost thou not answer me? Art so sure ’tis not the lieutenant? Hast seen him thyself? Hast——”
“Nay, nay, Tom, are they not all out yonder looking for him?”
“Ay, and maybe thou knowest where he is all the toime! Thou canst not always be trusted, Ann, e’en by thy own friends. And I’d not trust thee with a pretty fellow like yon lieutenant. Maybe you got rid of us all that you moight have it out with him by yourself. Eh, lass, eh?”
And Tregenna could tell, by the sound of moving feet, that Tom was searching round the room.