"You are welcome, sir. But my goodness! there's nothing in the house for dinner, and I'm in the midst of a big wash."
He shook his head as he walked into the parlour--a sunny apartment, redolent of mignonette, boxes of which stood outside the windows. "I don't in the least care about dinner," he carelessly observed. "A crust of bread, a little fresh butter, and a cup of milk, will do as well for me as anything more substantial."
Molly left him, to see what she could do in the way of entertainment, and take counsel with herself. "If it doesn't happen on purpose!" she ejaculated. "Anything that upsets the order of the house is sure to come on washing day! Well, it's no good worrying. The wash must go. If I can't finish to-day, I must finish to-morrow. I think he's what he says he is; and I've heard them red umbrellas is used in France."
She carried in a tray of refreshment--bread, butter, cheese, milk, and honey, and had adjusted the sleeves of her gown, straightened her hair, put on a clean apron, and taken off her pattens. Mr. Daw detained her whilst he helped himself, asking divers questions; and Molly, nothing loth, ever ready for a gossip, remembered not her exacting brewhouse.
"There is a place called Trevlyn Hold in this neighbourhood, is there not?"
"Right over there, sir," replied Molly, extending her hand. "You might see its chimneys but for them trees."
"I suppose the young master of Trevlyn has grown into a fine man?"
Molly turned up her nose, never supposing but the question alluded to Cris, and Cris was no favourite of hers: a prejudice possibly imbibed during her service at Trevlyn Farm.
"I don't call him so," said she, shortly. "A weazened-face fellow, with an odd look in his eyes as good as a squint! He's not much liked about here, sir."
"Indeed! That's a pity. Is he married? I suppose not though, yet. He is young."
"There's many a one gets married younger than he is. But I don't know who'd have him," added Molly, in her prejudice. "I wouldn't, if I was a young lady."
"Who has acted as his guardian?" resumed Mr. Daw.
Molly scarcely understood the question. "A guardian, sir? That's somebody that takes care of a child's money, who has no parents, isn't it? _He_ has no guardian that I ever heard of, except it's his father."