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If I'd but known that it were for for him " "Hod thy tongue. Thou wad mak a priest sweer," said Mrs. Garth. The words rolled within her teeth. "I heard what they said of the warrant, mother," said Joe; "it were the same warrant, I reckon, as old Mattha's always preaching aboot, and it's missing, and it seems to me that they want to make out as Ray as Ralph "
On the afternoon of the third day of Robbie's illness it was Sunday Rotha Stagg left her own peculiar invalid in the care of one of the farm women and walked over to Mattha's house. Willy Ray had not returned from Carlisle. He had exchanged scarcely six words with her since the interview previously recorded. Rotha had not come to Shoulthwaite for Willy's satisfaction.
"I've oft telt thee so," said Mattha, not fearing the character of a Job's comforter. "And while this bad work has been afoot too," added Robbie, with a penitent drop of the head. They had a tributary of the Wyth River to pass on the way to Mattha's house. When they came up to it, Robbie cried, "Hold a minute!"
Ray put her apron to her eyes. "Ye'll na boune yit, Mary," said Matthew. "Ye'll na boune yon way for mony a lang year yit. So dunnet ye beurt, Mary." Mattha's blubbering tones somewhat discredited his stoical advice. Rotha had taken down a cup, and put the old man to sit between herself and Willy, facing Mrs. Ray.
"Don't I? Ah, but I am glad that is, I'm glad your father won't need old Mattha's bull-grips," he said, with an attempt to laugh at his own pleasantry. How hollow the laugh sounded on his own ears! It was not what his father would have called heartsome. What was this sadness that was stealing over him and stiffening every sense? Had he yet realized it in all its fulness?
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