"About a mile," the vicar faltered; "I should say a--a long mile," he added, as he reluctantly obeyed the pressure of Tom's hand.
"Well, I am glad it's no further!" the young man answered. "For I'm so sharp set I could eat my sister. You've parson's fare, I suppose? Bacon and eggs and small beer?" he continued, clapping the unfortunate clergyman on the back with the utmost good humour. "Well, sir, you shall entertain us! And while we are dining, the messenger can be going to the Hall. Soap and a jack-towel will serve my turn, but the girl--what's your name, child?"
"Betty, sir."
"Will be the better for the loan of your wife's shoes and a cap! And Sophy is married? Where was it, my girl?"
"At Dr. Keith's, sir."
"The deuce it was!" Tom cried ruefully. "Then that's two hundred out of my pocket! Were you with her, child?"
"No, sir, her ladyship hired me after she was married."
Tom looked at her. "But--but I thought," he said, "that you told me last night that you had been brought up with your mistress?"
Betty bit her lip, unable to remember if she had told him so. "Oh, yes, sir," she said hastily, "but that was another mistress."
"Also of the name of Sophia?"