“I kent it all the time!” she cried triumphantly.
“No child of Wully’s?” he repeated.
“He never done it. I said so all the time! Now she’s told me herself!”
He peered at her through the blue half-darkness that rose from the snow.
“Not his! God be thankit! Whosever is it?”
“It’s Peter Keith’s. Whose would it be, and her in Libby’s house half the winter? And Peter running away the very day they were married! Libby’s that slack, thinking him such an angel!”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She did not. But I kent it! Did I not say Wully never did so ill a thing?”
“You did not!”
“It was a grand thing for him to do. But I can’t think what possessed him ever to take all that blame on us!”