She had just returned from her hens one morning, with Bungo sneaking in her wake, when she heard Mrs. Cockshow in loud altercation on the road. The shrill, high voice of an old man was contending with that of the widow, and Catherine ran to the window in the upper storey, attracted by the increasing noise. Judging by the part that the word “fourpence” played in the storm, the dispute was about money, and the girl knew the toll-woman well enough to be sure that there could be but one issue to the combat. She smiled, hearing the baffled fury in the old man’s tone, as the gate swung open for the wheels that went grinding through it.
“A pint o’ fourpences would be no more account to me nor a pint o’ ditchwater!” he screamed. “I’ve thousands to leave behind me when I go, I have!”
“An’, by Pharaoh, I’ve got more than that!” cried Mrs. Cockshow at the pitch of her lungs. “I’ve the world to leave be’ind me when I go!”
Catherine, at her vantage point in the upper window, pulled the curtain aside as the gate closed, only to jump back as though she had been fired at; for Bungo, who had joined his owner and was at the farther side of the road, fell into a frenzy of barking as he heard her movement at the open casement and saw her figure. The eyes of all went upward. The old man in the gig below was Saunders’s uncle, and Catherine was looking straight into the upturned face of Charles.
When the gig had rolled on without any action on his part, she breathed again freely. Mrs. Cockshow standing in her favourite spot in the middle of the road, watched the vehicle out of sight, and when a bend hid it she came close under the toll-house walls.
“’E’s ’ad enough o’ you!” she called up, her broad face all one smile. “Did ye see the bald ’eaded old mawkin sittin’ up beside ’im? If the young feller’s no better nor ’im, ye did well to give ’im the slip. I’ve seen the old devil drivin’ ’is cattle along this road many a time. A proud look and a ’igh stomach ’e ’as, too; but that don’t keep ’im from bastin’ their ribs wi’ a common stick cut out o’ the ’edge—can’t spare so much as would buy a decent bit o’ ash plant. ’E don’t ’ave no cattle-man neither, an’ ’im screechin’ about ’is thousands! They do say ’e starved ’is wife too. I know them that’s seen ’er——”
At this point the widow discovered herself to be shouting up into an empty room; for Catherine had come out and was standing behind her, with a scared face.
Mrs. Cockshow turned on her.
“Silly wench that ye be!” she exclaimed. “It’s better to be sure than sorry. I tell ye ’e ’ates the very sight of ye now, an’ no wonder too. Go an’ get the dinner. It’s nigh upon twelve, and Bungo ’asn’t ’ad a bite to-day. Come in, ye whelp!”