Patience came to the door, in answer to his knock. She thanked him for the microscope and stood a minute or two chatting. Patience was fond of a gossip; there was no denying it.
"Will thee not walk in?"
"Not now," he said, turning away. "Good night, Patience."
"Good night to thee. Thee send in Anna, please. She is having a pretty long talk with thy mother."
William was at a loss. "I saw Anna in from Mr. Ashley's."
"She did but ask whether her father was home, and then ran through the house," replied Patience. "She had a message for thy mother, she said, from Margaret Ashley."
"Mrs. Ashley does not send messages to my mother," returned William, in some wonder. "They have no acquaintance with each other—beyond a bow, in passing."
"She must have sent her one to-night—why else should the child go in to deliver it?" persisted Patience. "Not but that Anna is always running into thy house at nights. I fear she must trouble thy mother at her class."
"She never stays long enough for that," replied William. "When she does come in—and it is not often—she just opens the door; 'How dost thee, friend Jane Halliburton?' and out again."
"Then thee can know nothing about it, William. I tell thee she never stays less than an hour, and she is always there. I say to her that one of these evenings thy mother may likely be hinting to her that her room will be more acceptable than her company. Thee send her home now, please."