Lord did not much mind the woman's outburst of tears and thanks; but when he observed the look of admiration and gratitude in Vinnie's deep eyes, fixed upon him, he felt an unaccustomed thrill.
Mrs. Peakslow went weeping back to her husband.
"I am sorry you spoke as you did," she said. "We all thought you was under the linter; and they was all workin' so hard—as if they had been our best friends—to get you out."
"Best friends!" repeated Peakslow, with a snort of angry contempt.
"Yes, pa; and now,—will you believe it?—now that we haven't a ruf to our heads, they offer us shelter in their house!"
"In the castle?—huh!" sneered Peakslow. "I never thought 't would come to that!"
"Where else can we go?" said Mrs. Peakslow. "It's 'most night,—nights are beginnin' to be cold,—and think o' the children! 'T will be weeks, I s'pose, 'fore ye can rebuild."
"If I couldn't rebuild in all etarnity, I wouldn't set foot in Lord Betterson's castle!" said Peakslow. He looked again at the ruined house, then at the children, and added: "Me an' the boys, we can stop in the stable, or dig holes in the stack, to make ourselves comf'table. Do what you're a min' ter, for the rest. But don't say I told ye to ask or accept a favor of them."
The Bettersons, Vinnie, and Jack were waiting between the ruined house and the road; and Mrs. Betterson was saying, "Lillie, you and I must be going back; remember, we left Cecie all alone; and the evening air is too chill for the baby," when Link cried,—
"Who's that coming down the road?"