"It's my opinion," he said solemnly, as if what he was about to say was something that could not possibly have struck any one else; "it's my opinion as her nurse or some one has been cross to her and she's runned away."
"But what shall we do?" said Mrs. Liz, a little anxiously. "How shall we find out where she belongs to?"
"Oh, easy enough," said David. "She's but a baby. And even if she wouldn't tell, you may be sure they'll soon be sending after her. I could take her home on my way to Greenoaks if I knew where it was. Can't be far off—maybe it's one of the clergyman's children down by Springley."
"They've none so little," said Mrs. David. "But there's Squire Caryll's—I heard say there's a sight o' little ones there. 'Twill be there."
"Likely enough," said David. "But I'd like a cup o' tea, Liz, if the young lady'll excuse my being rather rough like."
Lizzie laughed.
"She's but a baby," she said; and so David came forward and sat down at the table.
Hoodie looked up from her tea and stopped half way through a "bicsit" to take a good stare at the new comer.
"Who is zou, please?" she said at last.