“He deed,” said the priest seriously.
“And he showed it to you?”
“No, no; he deed not that.”
“Did he tell you what I had written?” asked Eugene.
“No, my chile.”
“He was angry, for example?”
“Well angry, leetle one. Thou deed write wrong, ees it not?”
“Possibly I did,” said Eugene with a shrug of his shoulders; and for the first time Mrs. Hardy found her suspicion verified that the boy had had some prickings of conscience about the letter that he had written to his grand-uncle.
“Thy onkel has many cheeldren,” said the curé amiably.