'That were summut queer, weren't it ?' Sylvia reddened a good deal.
'He's too fause to have spoken to her on me, in t' old way,--as he used for t' speak to me.

I were nought to her but Philip's wife.' 'An' what t' dickins had she to do wi' Philip ?' asked Kester, in intense surprise; and so absorbed in curiosity that he let the humbugs all fall out of the paper upon the floor, and the little Bella sat down, plump, in the midst of treasures as great as those fabled to exist on Tom Tiddler's ground.
Sylvia was again silent; but Kester, knowing her well, was sure that she was struggling to speak, and bided his time without repeating his question.
'She said--and I think her tale were true, though I cannot get to t' rights on it, think on it as I will--as Philip saved her husband's life somewheere nearabouts to Jerusalem.

She would have it that t' captain--for I think I'll niver ca' him Kinraid again--was in a great battle, and were near upon being shot by t' French, when Philip--our Philip--come up and went right into t' fire o' t' guns, and saved her husband's life.

And she spoke as if both she and t' captain were more beholden to Philip than words could tell.

And she come to see me, to try and get news on him.
'It's a queer kind o' story,' said Kester, meditatively.