"What she will--she will," said Benedict gloomily.
"Tell her the mountain's not safe, then she'll remain of herself."
"Where's the good of lying? She'll not change her mind however long she stays here, and thou hast nothing to hope, I've told thee that often enough. An unfledged stripling like thee is not for a maid like Wally! Now keep thyself quiet." He went into the house, and the tears sprang into Leander's eyes with anger and pain.
Wally came with the hayfork out of the stable towards Benedict.
"Wally," he said, "if it must be so, I'll lead thee up there, I've found out the way; but it is still dangerous."
"Thank thee kindly, Benedict," said Wally, "tomorrow, then, we will go." She hung up the hayfork, and went into the kitchen. Benedict stamped with his foot, and set his alpenstock in the corner. For a while he stood reflecting, then he could keep quiet no longer--he followed her.
Wally had tucked up her gown and was preparing to wash the kitchen.
"Wally, leave all that, I want to talk with thee."
"I cannot, Benedict, I must scour the kitchen. If I go away to-morrow, I must have the whole house clean. I'll leave no dirt or disorder behind me."
"Thou's always worked more by us than thou hast eaten or drunken. Let be now, the house is clean enough, and if thou goes away--all is one." He chewed at a piece of wood, then spit out the bitten splinter. Wally saw the terrible state of excitement he was in, and left off her work that she might listen to him.