‘And met him there? When did you come back?’
‘Dear mamma, it grew very late, and he said it was safer not to go back till next day, as the roads were bad; and as you were away from home—’
‘I don’t want to hear any more! This is your respect for your father’s memory,’ groaned the widow. ‘When did you meet him again?’
‘Oh—not for more than a fortnight.’
‘A fortnight! How many times have ye seen him altogether?’
‘I’m sure, mamma, I’ve not seen him altogether a dozen times.’
‘A dozen! And eighteen and a half years old barely!’
‘Twice we met by accident,’ pleaded Betty. ‘Once at Abbot’s-Cernel, and another time at the Red Lion, Melchester.’
‘O thou deceitful girl!’ cried Mrs. Dornell. ‘An accident took you to the Red Lion whilst I was staying at the White Hart! I remember—you came in at twelve o’clock at night and said you’d been to see the cathedral by the light o’ the moon!’
‘My ever-honoured mamma, so I had! I only went to the Red Lion with him afterwards.’