Getting no response, she added,-- "And yer fadder, I reckon _he's_ found it out too, bein' so lang beholden to others.

I met the poor man on the road awhile ago." "It's cold and sappy, Mrs.Garth.Good night," said Rotha.
"Poor man, he has to scrat now," said Mrs.Garth, regardless of Rotha's adieu.

"I reckon he's none gone off for a spoag; he's none gone for a jaunt." The woman was angry at Rotha's silence, and, failing to conciliate the girl, she was determined to hold her by other means.

Rotha perceived the purpose, and wondered within herself why she did not go.
"But he's gone on a bootless errand, I tell ye," continued Mrs.Garth.
"What errand ?" It was impossible to resist the impulse to probe the woman's meaning.
Mrs.Garth laughed.

It was a cruel laugh, with a crow of triumph in it.
"Yer waxin' apace, lass; I reckon ye think ye'll be amang the next batch of weddiners," said Mrs.Garth.
Rotha was not slow to see the connection of this scarcely relevant observation.