“What do tales matter as long as they are only idle ones?” said Mr. Brander, hastily. “Now, Abel Squires, which is it to be? Is the parson to have his way, or has he been wasting his breath?”
“He maun ha’ his way, Ah reckon: but Ah tell thee, parson, it’s all no use. It’ll be none o’ ma doin’, but—murder will oot, tha knaws.”
He dropped his voice to a low, portentous whisper for the last words.
“Murder!” echoed Mr. Blander, also in a low voice. “What are you talking about? Didn’t I tell you it was not murder?”
“Ay, that tha did,” said Abel, rather drily.
“And did you see anything?”
“Weel, not that neeght, but next day——”
“Ah!” ejaculated Mr. Brander, sharply. “Then you didn’t keep your word; you didn’t go straight on!”
The man’s answer came deliberately.
“Ah went straight on that neeght, mester, as Ah towd tha Ah would. But Ah coom back next mornin’. It wur only human natur’; an’ Ah took a look round. Ay! parson, Ah hid summat as would ha towd a tale.”