“Women and fools will be meddlin’,” he resumed. “Lord love ye! For mad words, deaf ears, they say. ’Pon my soul! ’twould make a cow laugh, and if ye don’t mind ye may run yer head against the wall.”
“I will go to-morrow and look at the child,” said Mildred, with sullen emphasis, clapping one lean hand down on the other.
“That’s all I want ye. Come, what mischief can ye make o’ that? Clear yer head!”
“There’s two things shouldn’t anger ye: what ye can help and what ye can’t,” said Mildred. “I’ll go wi’ ye in the mornin’, Master Harry.”
“That’s the least we can do and the most. How’s Ally?”
“Dyin’, I think; she’ll be gone before daybreak, I’m thinkin’.”
“That’s bad,” said Harry.
“Good hap or ill hap, as God awards. I know nout against her.”
“Poor little thing!” said Harry.
“I blame myself; but what could I do? If aught’s gone wrong wi’ the child, poor lady! ’tis well she were gone too.”