In the minor affairs of life Ann Penhallow used the quick perception of a woman, and now and then brought the Squire's kindly excesses to the bar of common sense.

Sometimes the sentence was never announced, but now and then annoyed at his over-indulgent charity she allowed her impatience the privilege of speech, and then, as on this occasion, was sorry to have spoken.
Dismissing his slight vexation, Penhallow said presently, "He told me his mother was sick." "She was not yesterday.

I took her our monthly allowance and some towels I wanted hemmed and marked.

He lied to you, James.

Did you believe him even for a moment ?" "But she might be sick, Ann.