“Well, indeed, what is it?” asked Deb, subduing her voice, but unable to dim the two ripe, red cherries in her old red cheeks, or the snap in her old eyes.
“Ow, ’tis a pain—ow! a pain in me leg.”
“Och, well, ’t is too bad, but ’tis nothin’, ’tis nothin’ but the effect of old age,” said Deb comfortingly, “an’ old age is never comin’ alone.”
“Not comin’ alone?”
“Nay, nay, no more nor youth comes without love, nor middle age without comfort, nor——”
“Tut,” interrupted Keturah sharply, “indeed ye are makin’ a mistake; the pain has nothin’ to do with growin’ old. The other leg is quite as old whatever, but that one is well, aye, quite well.”
After an awkward silence Deb said lightly, “Is it? well, indeed!” then passed with feminine skill to another subject. “Have ye heard the news about Tudur Williams? No? Well, he went quite nasty with Cardo Parry for playin’ false with poor little Sally Edwards.”
“Did he so! Tudur is always fightin’, his pale face looks so fierce.”
“Aye, bleached. ’Tis hard rememberin’ he an’ the schoolmistress are brother and sister.”