“Oh, yes, you do. There, you come and see me to-night—no, to-morrow morning, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“You dear old gran’fa!” cried the girl. “But make haste; I want to go into that loft. You’ve got the key.”
“Have I?”
“Yes, and if you don’t make haste, Mr Salis and Mr May will be here, and I can’t get through the vestry.”
“Ah well, you feel in my pocket there—in the coat behind the door. It’s the littlest key.”
The girl darted to the old coat, and the next minute had drawn out four keys, all polished by long usage, the littlest being a great implement, big enough to use for a weapon of war.
“There,” said old Moredock, chuckling; “bring it back to me when you’ve done.”
“Yes, gran’fa.”
“And mind young squire don’t see you.”
“Oh, gran’fa, of course I will.”