“Well, mother, to speak the truth, I ha’nt been to the Ferry at all. An’ I must ask you to forgie me for practisin’ a trifle o’ deception on ye—that ’bout the Mary wantin’ repairs.”
“I suspected it, lad; an’ that it wor the tother Mary as wanted something, or you wanted something wi’ her. Since you’ve spoke repentful, an’ confessed, I ain’t a-goin’ to worrit ye about it. I’m glad the boat be all right, as I ha’ got good news for you.”
“What?” he asks, rejoiced at being so easily let off.
“Well; you spoke truth when ye sayed there was no knowin’ but that somebody might be wantin’ to hire ye any minnit. There’s been one arready.”
“Who? Not the Captain?”
“No, not him. But a grand livery chap; footman or coachman—I ain’t sure which—only that he came frae a Squire Powell’s, ’bout a mile back.”
“Oh! I know Squire Powell—him o’ New Hall, I suppose it be. What did the sarvint say?”
“That if you wasn’t engaged, his young master wants ye to take hisself, and some friends that be staying wi’ him, for a row down the river.”
“How far did the man say? If they be bound to Chepstow or even but Tintern, I don’t think I could go; unless they start Monday mornin’. I’m ’gaged to the Captain for Thursday, ye know; an if I went the long trip, there’d be all the bother o’ gettin’ the boat back—an’ bare time.”
“Monday! Why, it’s the morrow they want ye.”