“Look yonder,” mocked Patience, pointing to the water, “the captain is at his prayers again. I wonder, now, what he took that book to be you throwed at him, and your voice to be that called him? He’ll make a maze o’ queer fancies out of all, I reckon.”
“Does Mr. Saltren often come here?”
“When the shoe pinches.”
“I do not understand you, Mrs. Kite.”
“No, I’ll be bound you do not. How can you understand the pinching and pain o’ others, when you’ve never felt pinch or pain yourself? Such as lie a-bed in swans’ down wonder what keeps them awake that couches on nettles.”
“But what has this to do with Captain Saltren and his prayers?”
“Everything,” answered the woman; “you don’t ask for apples when your lap is full. Those that suffer and are in need open their mouths. But whether aught comes to them for opening their mouths is another matter. The cuckoo in my clock called, and as none answered, he gave it up—so did I.”
There was a savagery in the woman’s tone that startled Arminell, and withal a strangeness in her manner that attracted her curiosity.
“I will go with you to the cottage for a moment,” she said.
“This is the way,” answered Patience, leading through the brake of fern under the oaks.