“I cannot tell you,” answered Molly, coloring slightly as she spoke.
The Squire looked annoyed and suspicious.
“You go and call her to me,” he said. “Tell her to come along this blessed minute; say it's wanting her I am.”
Molly ran out of the barn. She found Nora in earnest conversation with Angus, while Hannah Croneen stood close by plucking now and then at the girl's skirt, looking eagerly into her face, and uttering such ejaculations as “Oh, glory!” “Be the powers!” “Did ye ever hear the like?” “Well, well, that beats all!”
“Nora,” said Molly, “will you go to your father? He wants you immediately.”
“Have you let out anything?” said Nora, turning and looking anxiously at Molly.
“No; but he asked after you, and I said you were busy. The Squire said then, 'I hope she is not poking her little finger into other people's pies.'”
“Well, I will go to him,” said Nora. “I'll manage him. You stay where you are, Molly.”
Nora's black hair was curling in crisp waves all round her beautiful white forehead. Her dark-blue eyes were darker and more shining than ever, there was a richer bloom on her cheeks, and there were sweeter smiles on her lips than she had ever perhaps worn before as she now entered the Squire's room.
“Well, father?” she said.