"What! Billy!" she exclaimed, as the pair entered the kitchen; "where, in the name of goodness ded you spring from?"
"Why, I ha'n't b'en away, have I?" replied the sly boy.
"Now, that's enough—a plenty," said Mrs. Brown, looking at the boy with her keen grey eyes. "I can see through a millstone so well as most people. I ha'n't b'en away, says aw!"
"No, have I?" said he, looking innocently at his mistress.
"Areah, thon! Now, I'll tell 'ee, Billy. He that ha' b'en your maister the last three days, may take 'ee for the next three days, for what I do care; for in my house you sha'n't stop,—there, na. My eyes ha' b'en opening wider and wider evar sence last night. A croom of chat with one, and a croom of chat with another, have opened them so wide, that I can see round a corner a'most."
"I don't knaw what you do main," said the boy.
"Iss you do," replied Mrs. Brown, shaking her head; "so you march,—and dont you come anist my door agen for a bra' spur."
The boy saw that his quondam mistress was in earnest; so he took the hint and made himself scarce.
"And now, Mr. Brown," said she, turning to her husband, who had seated himself in the chimney-corner, "what do you think of yourself, I shud like to knaw? Your Jessie mare es come to a purty pass, esn't she? Ef the young gentleman had gone over cliff too, I shud nevar ha' b'en good no more. To go for to slock the young gentleman into et like that wor a shame, an' so et wor. You an' 'The Maister' too oft to be spefflicated,—iss you ded."
"'The Maister' wor right, Peggy," said Mr. Brown;—"the boy es come back. Wo! ho! Jessie! gently, mare! steady, now! Wo! ho!"