“And the baby? I heard it was dead.”
“Then you heard a lie!”
The visitor, who was no other than Mrs. Tyson’s old servant, the stolid woman who had once admitted Henrietta to the house, seemed at a loss what to say next. After an awkward pause:
“Oh,” she said, “well, I am glad. I was not sure you hadn’t left her. And if she can’t get out of her bed——”
“You thought there’d be pickings about!” Bess cried, in her most insolent tone. “Well, there ain’t, my girl! And don’t you come up again scaring us after dark, or you’ll hear a bit more of my mind!”
“You’re not easy scared!” the woman retorted contemptuously. “Don’t tell me! It takes more than the dark to frighten you!”
“Anyway, nine o’clock is my hour for getting scared,” Bess returned. “And as it’s after that, and you’ve a dark walk back—— D’you come through the wood?”
“Ay, I did.”
“Then you’d best go back that way!” Bess replied.
And she shut the door in the woman’s face, and flung the bar over with a resounding bang.