As she left the cottage, after listening fearfully for some minutes to the incoherent mutterings of its unlucky tenant, Olivia met Mat, who was dutifully waiting in the garden to learn whether she had any more work for him. She stopped short on seeing him, and said, “Oh!” in some confusion.
“What is it?” asked Mat, whose loyal admiration for her made him quick of apprehension. “You want summat more done. Whatever it mebbe, Ah’m ready to do ’t.”
“You are good, Mat,” she said, gratefully, with a bright blush. “Nobody is ever as ready to help me as you, or so quick to know when one wants help.”
“Ah knaw more’n that,” said Mat, encouraged by her praise. “Ah knaw, Ah guess, what you want done.”
The color in Olivia’s cheeks grew deeper than ever. She said nothing, however; so Mat, after a short pause, went on—
“You want somebody to knaw what happened.”
Olivia laughed bashfully. “You’re an accomplished thought reader, Mat. Who is the person?”
“Parson Vernon.”
“Well, don’t you think he ought to know, as—as he’s a friend of Mr. Mitchell’s?”
“Ay,” said Mat. “Ah’ll go straight off to him neow.”