“Rose, then!” she snapped.
“I think,” said Sir John in his pleasant voice, “you have some message for me, Mrs. Penelope?”
“Gimme time, young man, gimme time! I bean’t kissed an’ called a fairy every day, so gimme——” She paused suddenly and seemed to listen intently, “I rackon you’d best be goin’—both on ye!”
“But why, pray?” demanded my lady.
“Happen I’ll ha’ trouble here presently.”
“Then, of course, I shall stay with you!” quoth my lady in her most determined manner, but glanced round sharply, as upon the back door of the cottage sounded three soft raps repeated three several times.
“That will be Mr. Potter, I think,” said Sir John. “Shall I let him in?”
“Since ye seem to know arl about it, young man, ye may.”
Scarcely had Sir John loosed the bolts than, sure enough, Mr. Potter slid into the room and proceeded to lock and bolt and chain the door, further securing it with a stout iron bar that he reached from adjacent corner; thus busied, he spoke, albeit gasping a little with his late exertions.