“Why, ye see, the roof leaks, an’ the chimbley smokes——”
“The more shame to Sir John Dering!” exclaimed my lady fiercely.
“Aye,’twere different in the ol’ squire’s time—the other Sir John as marched away wi’ his sojers an’ never came back ... the world was better then ... ’specially High Dering. But to-day they name me witch, an’ a witch’s cottage bean’t no place for young maids—’specially your sort! But since you be here, come in an’ sit ye down—both on ye! An’ if ye’ll wait ’till my kittle b’iles I’ll brew ye a dish o’ tea——”
“Tea?” exclaimed my lady.
“Aye, I generally tak’s a drop towards noon; it do warm my old bones!” So saying, she led them into the cottage and very carefully locked, bolted and chained the door.
“I do this,” she explained, “because happen they may come an’ mak’ trouble for me—sudden-like!”
“Who, pray?” demanded my lady indignantly.
“Any fule as finds ’is cow gone dry, or ’is crop blighted, or ’is horse off its feed, or his child in a fit.... Lord bless ’ee, child, doan’t stare so! Ye see folks thinks I’ve ‘the evil eye’ an’ can blast ’em with a look ... aye, but I wish I could, that I du!”
“And so,” continued Sir John, “they have stoned her, set dogs on her, and threatened her with death by water and the fire, ere now——”