"Trouble," she repeated, "oh dear no, ma'am. Little Miss hasn't given me one bit of trouble, and nothing but a pleasure 'twould have been, but for thinking you'd all be put out so about her at home. But you'll let her come again some day when she's passing, to see me and baby. She's been so taken up with the baby, has Missy."
Martin hesitated. She wanted to be civil and kind—Mrs. Caryll had expressly desired her to thank the cottager's wife for taking care of the little truant, and Martin was by nature sensible and gentle, and not the least inclined to give herself airs as if she thought herself better than other people. But Hoodie's behaviour had quite upset her. She did not feel at all ready to reply graciously to Lizzie's meek invitation. So she stood still and hesitated. And seeing her hesitation, naughty Hoodie darted forward and threw her arms round Lizzie's neck, hugging and kissing her.
"I sall come to see you, I will, I sall," she cried. "Never mind what that naughty, ugly 'sing says. I will come, dear little baby's mother."
Martin was almost speechless with indignation. Poor Lizzie saw that she was angry, yet she had not the heart to put away the child clinging to her so affectionately, and David's words "perhaps her nurse is cross to her at home," came back to her mind. Things might really have become very uncomfortable indeed, but for Cross, the coachman, who unexpectedly came to the rescue. He had been standing by, rather, to tell the truth—now that the anxiety which he as well as the rest of the household had felt, was relieved—enjoying the scene.
"Miss Hoodie's a rare one, to be sure," he said to himself, chuckling quietly. But when he saw that Martin was really taking things seriously, and that the young woman too looked distressed and anxious, he came forward quietly, and before Hoodie knew what he was doing he had lifted her up with a spring on to his shoulder, where she sat perched like a little queen.
"Now, Miss Hoodie," he said, "if you'll be good, perhaps I'll carry you home."
Hoodie, though extremely well pleased with her new and exalted position, was true to her colours.
"Carry me home, Coss," she said imperiously; "hasn't you brought the calliage for me?"
"No, indeed I haven't," replied Cross; "little Misses as runs away from home can't expect to be fetched back in a carriage and pair. I think you're very well off as it is. But we must make haste home—just think how frightened your poor mamma has been."
Hoodie tossed her head. Some very naughty imp seemed to have got her in his possession just then.