"Good Lord, sur, is that you?" was her answer.
"Yes, where is your mistress?"
"Aw, I be glad, I be glad," she sobbed, "we've 'ad a terble time, sur—a terble time."
"Is your mistress ill?" I asked.
"She'll go mazed zoon."
"Why?"
She looked anxiously around, and then turned towards me again.
"Ther's nobody harkenin', nobody do knaw you be 'ere, sur, do mun?"
"No one. I called here less than an hour ago, and the landlord told me that his wife's sister had small-pox. So I rode away, but I found out that he told me false. That's why I've come back again. No one has seen me but you."
"And you be my young missus' friend, be'ant 'ee, sur? You doan't main she no 'arm."