“Yes,” he replied, “but I’m not telling. My grand-darter’s ’tween maid at Hapforth and she knows all about it. They quarrelled over her right enough.”
“Over your grand-daughter?” I queried.
“Over Lucy!” he said scornfully. “Don’t be a big fule, mister. Why should they quarrel over Lucy? She’s a good girl and she’s only sixteen. Don’t you go for to mix her up in this business.”
“No,” I said, “I’m sorry. Lucy, who’s as good as she’s pretty and—”
“Nay, she’s nowt to look at,” the old man said, with a chuckle.
“And so Lucy told you that both Sir Philip and Mr. Thoyne were in love with Miss Kitty—”
“She never said nowt o’ th’ sooart,” the old man retorted. “It’s none of her business, is it?”
“Not at all,” I agreed.
I changed the subject after that and we discoursed on various matters of no great interest to either of us until we parted at the gate of Stone Hollow.
Later, when I had dined comfortably and well, and was seated in my study smoking a cigar, Mrs. Helter, my housekeeper entered with the information that Mr. Thoyne had called and wished to see me.