Do you think
she wouldn't 'a told me if she'd been a wife?'
Alice was frightened by the look and the voice.
'Mother, it isn't Emma at all. It's someone at Wanley. We can't help
it, mother. It's no use taking on. Now sit down and make yourself
quiet. It isn't our fault.'
Mrs. Mutimer smiled in a grim way, then laughed--a most unmusical
laugh.
'Now what's the good o' joking in that kind o' way? That's like your
father, that is; he'd often come 'ome an' tell me sich things as
never was, an' expect me to believe 'em. An' I used to purtend I
did, jist to please him. But I'm too old for that kind o'
jokin'.--Alice, where's Dick? How long'll it be before he's here?
Where did he leave you?'
'Now do just sit down, mother; here, in this chair. Just sit quiet
for a little, do.'
Mrs. Mutimer pushed aside the girl's hand; her face had become grave
again.
'Let me be, child. And I tell you I have seen Emma to-day. Do you
think she wouldn't 'a told me if things o' that kind was goin' on?'
'Emma knows nothing about it, mother. He hasn't told any one. He got
me to come because he couldn't tell it himself. It was as much a
surprise to me as to you, and I think it's very cruel of him. But
it's over, and we can't help it. I shall have to tell Emma, I
suppose, and a nice thing too!'
The old woman had begun to quiver; her hands shook by her sides, her
very features trembled with gathering indignation.
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