"But you might have thought I was asking, for all that," said Ralph, proud that he was placed above suspicion.
The boy's next letter to his father was an unusually long one. He had so much to tell. The writing of it cost him no little self-denial, and gave the Kelpie a holiday; but if the boy could have seen the delight with which his father read it, and the look of triumph on his face, he would have felt repaid for the loss of his ride.
Sarah was never allowed to see Ralph's letters to his father, much to her disgust.
"I mayn't be much of a scholar, Master Ralph," she would say, "but I'd be ashamed of myself if I couldn't do without snaking blots and smearing them with my thumb as you do. It's well the captain sends you envelopes ready directed and stamped, or the post people would never read your writing."
"I don't want them to read my writing, and I'll seal my letter and post it myself, so that you shan't," said Ralph defiantly, and in a very different tone from that in which he addressed Miss Mountford. "Father says he can read what I write, and that is good enough for me."
Ralph made a grimace at Sarah, waved his letter round his head, then raced off to post it.
"I'll be even with him yet," thought Sarah, for she was not a little anxious to find out something about her master's doings and whereabouts, Ralph having steadily refused all information. Her curiosity was not of an unkindly sort, but she had long known that her master's position was becoming desperate, and that utter ruin hung over Monk's How. She grieved for the downfall of the old name, for the mistress whom she had served so faithfully, for the boy she had nursed from his birth. She would have made any sacrifice for Ralph, and he, whilst he teased and harassed her, as only an over-indulged lad can tease, would have fought one far above his own size, if he had dared to annoy Sarah.
When Ralph returned triumphant from the post, Sarah was on her way to it by a different road. The postmaster was, of course, a village neighbour, and to him she appealed.
"Master Ralph has just posted a letter for his father," she said. "I'm afraid he has not put a stamp on, and I'm not sure if it's right directed."
"I'll look," said the postmaster, and accordingly he sought for and found the only letter addressed to Captain Torrance. "It's all right, only a bit tumbled, and the stamp is straight enough. The address is well-written, in a man's hand; if I'm not mistaken, the captain's own. I should know, I've seen it often enough."