"Gone, sir! packed off!—Can't have her here now." The farmer thrummed a step brisker, and eyed the young man's wild face resolutely.
"Mr. Blaize," Richard leaned forward to get closer to him. He was stunned, and hardly aware of what he was saying or doing: "Where has she gone? Why did she leave?"
"You needn't to ask, sir—ye know," said the farmer, with a side shot of his head.
"But she did not—it was not her wish to go?"
"No! I think she likes the place. Mayhap she likes't too well!"
"Why did you send her away to make her unhappy, Mr. Blaize?"
The farmer bluntly denied it was he was the party who made her unhappy. "Nobody can't accuse me. Tell ye what, sir. I wunt have the busybodies set to work about her, and there's all the matter. So let you and I come to an understandin'."
A blind inclination to take offence made Richard sit upright. He forgot it the next minute, and said humbly: "Am I the cause of her going?"
"Well!" returned the farmer, "to speak straight—ye be!"
"What can I do, Mr. Blaize, that she may come back again?" the young hypocrite asked.