“What made you so late?”
“Late!” returned Tod, savagely; “I am late, and the fun’s spoilt. That confounded old Duff and his cane came in to see you, Johnny, just as I was starting; there was nobody else, and I couldn’t leave him. I said you were in bed and asleep, but it didn’t send him away. Down he sat, telling a tale of how hard-worked he’d been all day, and asking for brandy-and-water. The dickens take him!”
“And, Tod, it was really not you?”
“If you repeat that again, Johnny, I’ll strike you. I swear it was not me. There! I never told you a lie yet.”
He never had; and from that moment of strong denial I know that Tod had no more to do with the matter than I had.
“I wonder who it could have been?”
“I’ll find that out, as sure as my name’s Todhetley,” he said, catching up his pistols and lights.
We ran all the way home, looking out in vain for the ghost on our way, and got in almost as soon as the rest. What a hullabaloo it was! They put a mattress on the kitchen floor, and laid Phœbe on it. Mr. Duffham was upon the scene in no time; the Squire had returned earlier than was thought for, and Mrs. Todhetley came down with her face smothered in a woollen handkerchief.
As to any concealment now, it was useless to think of it. None was attempted, and Molly and Hannah had to confess that they went out to watch for the shadows. The Squire blustered at them a little, but Mrs. Todhetley said the keenest thing, in her mild way:
“At your age, Hannah!”