They gave her supper, and put her to bed. In the morning, very early, George heard the sound of wheels below his bedroom window; and looking out, saw that Madge was driving out of the yard in a light cart, and, watching her closely, saw her pick up Ellen and the child just outside the gate. Then he went to bed again, and, when he awoke, he heard Madge's voice below, and knew she was come back.
He went down, and spoke to her. "Is she gone?" he asked.
"In course she is," replied Madge. "Do you think I was going to let her stay till the old man was about?"
"How much money did you give her, besides what she had from me?"
"I made it five pounds in all; that will keep her for some time, and then you must send her some more. If you let that wench starve, you ought to be burnt alive. A MAN would have married her in spite of his father."
"A likely story," said George, "that I was to disinherit myself for her. However, she shan't want at present, or we shall have her back again. And that won't do, you know."
"George," said Madge, "you promise to be as great a rascal as your father."
The old man had, as Madge prophesied, come home very drunk the night before, and had lain in bed later than usual, so that, when he came to breakfast, he found George, gun in hand, ready to go out.
"Going shooting, my lad?" said the father. "Where be going?"
"Down through the hollies for a woodcock. I'll get one this morning, it's near full moon."