“Weel, but it’s t’ bad characters that are fahnd aht that’s t’ worst. T’ other sort, that keeps dark, aren’t near so degreading. An’, by what Ah’ve been told, Ah reckon there’s some that’s fahnd aht at Owdcastle Farm.”
Not a word of explanation of this dark hint could Freda get from him. With Yorkshire obstinacy he shut up his mouth on that one subject, and, although she plied him with entreaties, all that he would add on the subject was:
“Weel, now, ye’re warned. Folks that tek’ oop wi’ dangerous characters must be prepared to tek’ t’ consequences.”
After this speech, Freda fell into frightened silence; and for the rest of the journey there was little conversation between them.
CHAPTER XXX.
From time to time, when they got into the open country, Freda was alarmed by the sight of another cart some distance behind them on the road. For long tracts the hedges, the winds in the road, the hills and vales, hid it from her sight, but again and again it would reappear, filling her with misgivings.
“Barnabas,” she said at last, when the farmer asked what it was she was turning round to look at so constantly, “there’s another cart following us; I am sure of it. Who do you think it is?”
“Fred Barlow, moast loike,” answered he, with a glance back. “He’s generally home early, an’ he lives only two moile aweay from wheer Ah do.”
And there was silence again.
But Freda was not satisfied; however long it might be before it reappeared, that cart was sure to come in sight again, and as for Fred Barlow, he would surely come in a little vehicle the size of the one she was driving in, not in a big, lumbering conveyance like that! Before Barnabas turned up the lane that led to the farm, though, the big cart had been lost sight of for so long that the girl’s fears had calmed a little, and by the time they drew up at the front door, she had forgotten everything but Dick, and the object of her journey.