“Speak to me at once, child. But just as thou wilt, I can read thy thoughts, I know,” and she laughed maliciously.
“Oh, mother!” cried Janet, bursting into tears.
“I think thou hast been very wicked, Janet.”
“Nay, mother, I could not help it; I tried so hard to be good.”
“My duty should be to tell Mas’ Jeremiah Cobbe.”
“Nay, nay, mother, he’d drive me hence, and Mas’ Peasegood would make me stand out before all the people in the church. Nay, good mother, give me something, pray. Sir Mark’s stout followers be rude wicked men. And Mas’ Wat Kilby, too,” she sobbed.
“I’ve given thee that which will help thee—I can do no more,” said Mother Goodhugh, sternly.
“Now thou’rt angered with me, mother,” pouted the girl. “I wish I had not come and told thee, that I do.”
“Tchah! she says, fold me,” laughed the old woman, “when I knew as well as all the world will soon know, Janet, an’ thou do not use my philtre.”
Janet turned pale.