"Mam," said the Sergeant, "ha' ye told my lady Carlyon aught o' this?
"Nay, nay," answered old Betty, "I had a mind to—but they wouldna let me see my lady—the footmen and lackeys laughed at poor old Bet and turned her from the door—so I did come to tell my brave sojer-sergeant."
"'Tis just as well, mam," nodded the Sergeant, "for now you shall come wi' us to his honour, the Major will hear you, I'll warrant me, so come your ways, mam."
"Aye," said Mrs. Agatha, "and you shall eat and drink likewise and after the Sergeant shall drive you back to Inchbourne an he will."
Thus Roger Bent, busied in the herb-garden, chancing to lift his head, stood suddenly upright, staggered back and fell into a clump of parsley; and propped upon an elbow, stared, as well he might, for into the sacred precincts of her stillroom went Mrs. Agatha and the Sergeant but between them tottered the bowed form of old Betty the witch.
"Lord!" exclaimed Roger, ruffling up his shock of hair. "My eyes is sure a-deceiving of me—an' that's what!"
CHAPTER XXXVI
HOW THEY RODE TO INCHBOURNE
"And what time doth the moon rise, Zebedee?" enquired the Major as they swung their horses into the high road.