'You know that story, surely, don't you, miss?'
'What story? How should I know why Naomi's sister hates Mr Clay? It's very wrong of her,' said Horatia.
'So it is; but her young man—the young man she was going to marry, I mean—was turned off by the master, and'——
'I expect he was a bad workman; that's his own fault,' said Horatia. 'But never mind about that story. Oh dear! I don't know which story I want to know. You are tiresome to-day, Nanny. What did Naomi say?'
'It was her sister. Naomi had nothing to do with it; she's too fond of Miss Sarah,' said Nancy.
Horatia peeped into the drawing-room. Mrs Clay still had her eyes shut, and by her breathing Horatia guessed what was indeed the case—that she had fallen asleep; so Horatia gave a sigh, and resigned herself to listen to Nancy's long-winded tale in the hope of getting at the truth in time. 'Come and sit on this seat outside the front-door, it is so hot in the house; and, besides, I am afraid of some one coming and hearing you,' she said, leading her nurse to a bench outside the drawing-room window. 'Now, about Naomi's sister.'
'It wasn't Naomi's sister herself,' began Nancy.
Horatia gave a groan; but so great was her anxiety to hear the truth that she made a great effort and controlled herself. Then Nancy went on: 'He said he'd burn the Clays out of Ousebank, and that they should have a taste of it this very day, to show Mark Clay what he might expect if he didn't alter his ways;' and Nancy stopped again.
'What else did Naomi say?' asked Horatia, who looked grave enough now.
'She said they'd burn the house next, or try to, and then the mills; and that's what they will do, and very likely it'll be this night; and if it isn't, it'll be to-morrow or the next day. And now perhaps you'll come home with me,' Nancy wound up.