Without more delay Olivia left the house, taking the way to the right by which they had approached the house, in the hope of meeting some one belonging to the inn who would direct her. She was fortunate enough to come upon a diminutive villager, who, after lengthy interrogation and apparent ignorance as to where “the Vicarage” was, acknowledged to knowing “where the parson lived.”
“Will you take me to the house if I give you twopence?”
“Hey,” replied the small boy, promptly.
He did not start, however, until he had taken an exhaustive survey of her, either for identification in case she should try to elude him at the other end of the journey, or to satisfy himself whether she was a person likely to possess twopence.
“Theer’s two ways,” he said, at last. “Short way over t’ brook, an’ oop t’ steps and through t’ churchyard; long way by t’ road an’ oop t’ hill.”
“Go the short way, then.”
“Mr. Midgley, t’ carpenter, fell an’ broak his leg goin’ oop theer this afternoon. An’ t’ churchyard geate’s cloased by now.”
“Well, then, we’ll go the other way, of course.”
The boy trudged along up the road, which was a continuation of that by which they had come to the farm, and made no attempt at conversation except in answer to Olivia’s questions. She made out, after much persevering pumping, that the vicar, Mr. Brander, was much liked, and that his wife was only a little less popular. After this there was a pause, which was broken by the boy, as they passed between a plain stone building, standing back from the road on the right, and a group of hay and straw stacks, sheds, and farm buildings on the left.
“That’s Mester Oldshaw’s farm,” said the boy.