“Little girls shouldn’t ask questions,” he answered rather grimly.
But Freda would not take his tone as a warning. Indeed she had an object of vital importance at her heart.
“But there was something they said, something I did hear, which I must tell you about, even if I make you angry—Crispin. There is a man whom they want to hurt, perhaps to kill; they said so. They are going to be out on the scaur to-night, and if he is there, as they expect, the wicked man, the worst of them all, said he would be on the watch.”
“Well, a man may watch another without hurting him. Like a foolish girl, who listens to what doesn’t concern her, you have half-heard things, and jumped to a ridiculous conclusion.”
But Freda was not to be put off like that. She rose from the bench on which they had been sitting side by side, and stood before him so that she could look straight into his face.
“No, no,” she cried vehemently. “I know more than you think, and I know they meant harm to John Thurley, who was kind to me, and wanted me to go away because he thought I was lonely and not taken care of.”
Crispin glanced up hastily, with a guilty flush on his face.
“Mrs. Bean—Nell looks after you, doesn’t she?” he asked sharply.
“Oh,” said the girl with a little half-bitter laugh, “I am fed all right; but perhaps Mr. Thurley thinks that food isn’t quite all a girl wants.”
Crispin got up abruptly, almost pushing her aside, and began walking about the room, as if in search of something to do, to hide a certain uneasiness which he felt. He kicked a coil of rope into a corner, and shifted one of the bales that had got a little out of place.