Richard hesitated for a moment, and then, with a half-laugh, said:
“Oh, yes, if you like.”
“Perhaps I shall like, my lad; but I don’t ask you to sweer now. You’ve heerd, I s’pose?”
“I’ve heard something, Joe, but can’t quite make it out,” said the young man.
“It’s easy,” said Joe, hoarsely. “My poor bairn came up town last night, and she hasn’t been back. We foun’ these here up by the chalk pit.”
“But she hadn’t fallen in?”
“No, my lad, no,” said the old man, quietly, for he was thinking deeply. “But thankye, thankye. They wanted to make me believe as you meant harm to the lass—all on ’em; but I knew you, lad, well, as your poor owd father’s son.”
“Mr Banks!”
“Aw raight, my lad, aw raight. I never thowt it of you, never; but the tongues would wag; and I said if thee loved the bairn thee should’st hev her. You do her harm! Not you, lad; you cared too much for her. But harm’s come to her some way. Let’s find her.”
“But how could they say such things of me?” said Richard, with virtuous indignation shining out of his eyes.