“Where are you going?” he said sourly.
Dally was too much startled for a moment to speak. Then, recovering herself, she said shortly:
“What’s that to you?”
“Heverything,” replied Joe, in a low growl. “Parson said I was to look out about the place; and I’m a-looking. Where are you going?”
Dally drew her breath with a hiss. It was maddening to be stopped at a time like this, when every minute was of importance; and the mail train was always punctual at King’s Hampton at half-past one.
“D’yer hear?” said Joe. “Well, if you won’t answer me, come on to parson, and tell him.”
“No, no, Joe Chegg; don’t stop me, please,” she said softly. “Gran’fa’s ill, and I’m going to take him something.”
“At quarter arter ten, eh? No, you arn’t. Old Moredock went to bed at half-past eight, for I run down and looked in at his windy ’fore he drawed the blind. Yes, I run down and see.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” cried Dally. “How dare you stop me?”
“Parson said I was to look out.”