"All I can say is—as I'm very sorry for ye, Miss Anthea," Grimes was saying. "Ah! that I am, but glad as you've took it so well,—no crying nor nonsense!" Here he turned to look at Miss Priscilla, whose everlasting sewing had fallen to her feet, and lay there all unnoticed, while her tearful eyes were fixed upon Anthea, standing white-faced beside her.
"And when—when shall ye be ready to—leave, to—vacate Dapplemere, Miss Anthea?" Grimes went on. "Not as I mean to 'urry you, mind,—only I should like you to—name a day."
Now, as Bellew watched, he saw Anthea's lips move, but no sound came. Miss Priscilla saw also, and catching the nerveless hand, drew it to her bosom, and wept over it.
"Come! come!" expostulated Grimes, jingling the money in his pockets. "Come, come, Miss Anthea, mam!—all as I'm axing you is—when? All as I want you to do is—"
But here Adam, who had been screwing and wringing at his hat, now stepped forward and, tapping Grimes upon the shoulder, pointed to the door:
"Mister Grimes," said he, "Miss Anthea's told ye all as you come here to find out,—she's told ye as she—can't pay, so now,—s'pose you—go."
"But all I want to know is when she'll be ready to move, and I ain't a going till I do,—so you get out o' my way!"
"S'pose you go!" repeated Adam.
"Get out o' my way,—d'ye hear?"
"Because," Adam went on, "if ye don't go, Mister Grimes, the 'Old Adam' be arising inside o' me to that degree as I shall be forced to ketch you by the collar o' your jacket, and—heave you out, Mr. Grimes, sir,—so s'pose you go."