'I mun go!' she whispered.
'Ah! You go,' said Vessons, glad that for once duty and inclination went hand in hand.
'I'll send you,' he added. 'Where d'yer live?'
She hesitated.
'You needna be frit to tell me,' said Vessons. 'I'm six-and-sixty, and you're no more to me'—he surveyed her flushing face contemplatively—'than the wold useless cat,' he concluded.
Hazel frowned; but she wanted a promise from Vessons, so she made no retort.
'You wunna tell 'im?' she pleaded.
''Im? Never will I! Wild 'orses shanna drag it from me, nor yet blood 'orses, nor 'unters, nor cart-'orses, nor Suffolk punches!' Vessons waxed eloquent, for again righteousness and desire coincided. He did not want a woman at Undern.
'Well,' said Hazel, whispering through the crack, 'I lives at the
Callow.'
'What! that lost and forgotten place t'other side the Mountain?'