“‘In the midst of life we are in death,’” he muttered. “Dear, dear, I wish I hadn’t spoken so harshly to him last night, mother. Fine, straightforward young fellow, and as good a gardener as ever stepped.”
Mrs Ellis sighed and glanced at her daughter, who was looking wildly from one to the other.
“There; I’ll get back. Ah! Who’s this?”
It was Daniel Barnett, who had run up from the bothy; and Ellis hurried out to the door.
“What is it?” he cried anxiously.
“Old Hannah says, ‘Will you come on:’ She don’t like the looks of him. He’s off his head.”
Ellis caught his hat from the peg, and glanced at Daniel Barnett with a peculiar thought or two in his head as the young man looked quickly at the door and window.
Barnett caught the glance and felt uncomfortable, for though sorry for his fellow-worker’s accident, certain thoughts would intrude relating to his own prospects if John Grange were not at The Hollows.
They hurried down to the grounds, mother and daughter watching from the window, and in those few minutes a great change came over Mary Ellis’s face. It was as if it rapidly altered from that of the happy, careless girl, who went singing about the house, to the thoughtful, anxious woman. Even her way of speaking was different, as she turned quickly upon her mother.
“What was father so angry about last night?” she said. “Did he have a quarrel with poor Mr Grange?”