"Hearkened the gentlefolks on Scutchemsee Nob, after you was gone home, Mistress."
Kate was annoyed.
"What! they must be prating as soon as one's back is turned! Talk of women's tongues! Now what did they say, I should like to know?"
"It was about the bet, ye know."
"A bet? Oh, that is no affair of mine."
"Ay, but it is. Why, 'twas you they were betting on. Seems that old soger and Squire Hammersley had laid three guineas to one that you should let out which was your fancy of them two."
Kate's cheeks were red as fire now; but her delicacy overpowered her curiosity, and she would not put any more questions. To be sure, young Hopeful needed none; he was naturally a chatterbox, and he proceeded to tell her, that, as soon as ever she was gone, Squire Hammersley took a guinea and offered it to the old soldier, and told him he had won, and the old soldier pocketed it. But after that, somehow, Squire Hammersley let drop that Mr. Neville was the favorite.
"Then," continued Mr. Leicester, "what does the old soger do, but pull out guinea again, and says he,—
"'You must have this back; bet is not won: for you do think 'tis Neville; now I do think 'tis Gaunt.'
"So then they fell to argufying and talking a lot o' stuff."