"You're a fool to go out," said Angella crossly. "Wait till you have a cup of coffee anyway."
"I'll be going just across the land, to the lad's cabin. I heard last night that he was back."
"Who's cabin? What land?"
"Young Cyril Stanley's—the scallawag. I'll have thot to say to him, I'm thinking, will bring him across in a hurry."
"He needn't come here!" Angella had started up savagely. "I don't want any man here, least of all a dog like that who'd do such a thing to a girl. He can keep away from my house. He's not fit to—to even look at her now. No man is."
"Weel, weel, 'tis true, but we're all liable to mistakes, ma'am, and young blood is hot and careless, and who are we—you and I—to judge another? We must look to our own consciences first, ma'am."
"Yes, stand up for him—defend him. You men all hang together. I know you all, and I hate you. I——"
She broke off, for the doctor was looking at her with such a strange look of mingled earnestness and tenderness, that the stormy words died on her lips, and she dropped her wet face upon the soft little one in her arms.
Dr. McDermott closed the door softly.