‘They were here but a minute ago,’ said David. ‘Depend upon it they have slinked off ‘cause they be shy.’
The miller at once went round to ask them to come back and sup with him; and while he was gone David told Bob in confidence what an excellent place he had for an old man.
‘Yes, Cap’n Bob, as I suppose I must call ye; I’ve worked for yer father these eight-and-thirty years, and we have always got on very well together. Trusts me with all the keys, lends me his sleeve-waistcoat, and leaves the house entirely to me. Widow Garland next door, too, is just the same with me, and treats me as if I was her own child.’
‘She must have married young to make you that, David.’
‘Yes, yes—I’m years older than she. ’Tis only my common way of speaking.’
Mrs. Garland would not come in to supper, and the meal proceeded without her, Bob recommending to his father the dish he had cooked, in the manner of a householder to a stranger just come. The miller was anxious to know more about his son’s plans for the future, but would not for the present interrupt his eating, looking up from his own plate to appreciate Bob’s travelled way of putting English victuals out of sight, as he would have looked at a mill on improved principles.
David had only just got the table clear, and set the plates in a row under the bakehouse table for the cats to lick, when the door was hastily opened, and Mrs. Garland came in, looking concerned.
‘I have been waiting to hear the plates removed to tell you how frightened we are at something we hear at the back-door. It seems like robbers muttering; but when I look out there’s nobody there!’
‘This must be seen to,’ said the miller, rising promptly. ‘David, light the middle-sized lantern. I’ll go and search the garden.’
‘And I’ll go too,’ said his son, taking up a cudgel. ‘Lucky I’ve come home just in time!’