Of these maxims the mother delivered herself deliberately as she sat twirling her thumbs. The sister, who was the mistress of the cottage, showed a little more sympathy.
“As long as you’ve got your board wages,” she said, “and a somethin’ to make up. Mother’s right enough, but I’ll allow as it’s hard to do. They’re all turned topsy-turvy at the Red Lion about Madam’s young man—him as all this business was about.”
“What’s about him?” cried Russell, for the first time with real energy raising her head.
“It turns out as he’s robbed his masters in Liverpool,” said Sarah, with the perfect coolness of a rustic spectator; “just what was to be expected; and the detectives is after him. He was here yesterday, I’ll take my oath, but now he’s gone, and there’s none can find him. There’s a reward of—”
“I’ll find him,” cried Russell, springing to her feet. “I’ll track him. I’m good for nothing now in a common way. I cannot rest, I cannot settle to needlework or that sort.” She was fastening her cloak as she spoke, and tying on her bonnet. “I’ve heaps of mending to do, for I never had a moment’s time to think of myself, but only of them that have showed no more gratitude— My heart’s broke, that’s what it is— I can’t settle down; but here’s one thing I’m just in a humor to do— I’ll track him out.”
“Lord, Lizzie! what are you thinking of it? You don’t know no more than Adam what way they’re gone, or aught about him.”
“And if you’ll take my advice, deary,” said the old woman, “you’ll neither make nor meddle with the quality. Right or wrong, it’s always the poor folk as go to the wall.”
“I’ll track him, that’s what I’ll do. I’m just in the humor for that,” cried Russell, savagely. “Don’t stop me. What do I care for a bit of money to prove as I’m right. I’ll go and I’ll find them. Providence will put me on the right way. Providence’ll help me to find all that villainy out.”
“But, Lizzie! stop and have a bit to eat at least. Don’t go off like that, without even a cup of tea—”
“Oh, don’t speak to me about cups of tea!” Russell rushed at her mother and dabbed a hurried kiss upon her old cheek. She waved her hand to her sister, who stood open-mouthed, wondering at her, and finally rushed out in an excitement and energy which contrasted strangely with her previous prostration. The two rustic spectators stood gazing after her with consternation. “She was always one as had no patience,” said the mother at last. “And without a bit of dinner or a glass of beer, or anything,” said Sarah. After that they returned to their occupations and closed the cottage door.