“Yes; and a fine pickle he was in,” I answered, telling her about it. “I dare say Hannah has put him to bed for punishment.”
“But Hannah has not,” said Mrs. Todhetley. “She came down at four o’clock to inquire if he had come in.”
However, thinking that it might possibly turn out to be so, she ran in to ascertain. Tod put his hand on my shoulder, and walked me further off.
“Johnny, did Hugh really not go with you?”
“Why, of course he did not. Should I deny it if he did?”
“Where the dickens can the young idiot have got to?” mused Tod. “Jeffries vowed he saw him go off with you down the field, Johnny.”
“But I sent him back. I watched him in at the fold-yard gate. You don’t suppose I could take him further in that pickle!”
Tod laughed a little at the remembrance. Mrs. Todhetley returned, saying Hugh was not to be found anywhere. She looked ready to die. Tod was inwardly enjoying her fright beyond everything: it was better than a play to him. His particularly easy aspect struck her.
“Oh, Joseph!” she implored, “if you know where he is, pray tell me.”
“How should I know?” returned Tod. “I protest on my honour I have not set eyes on him since before luncheon to-day.”