step round after dinner and have a
look at it, "It's so amazin' like the one Mr. Lambert lost, I reckon
it 'ud be a kind o' comfort if hoo could tell Mrs. Lambert hoo needn't
set sich store by it, as sich things is easy to be got."

"Well, aunt, I'm not goin' to stop in to have Margery Formby pokin'
and pryin' at my things. I never see such queer folk in my life.
'Tisn't thought manners in other places to be passin' remarks an'
askin' questions about a fellow's clothes."

"Well I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Waring, scarlet with indignation.
"Upon my word, John, if it's thought manners in town to be givin'
impudence to your own aunt ye'd best go back theer. It's not thought
manners here, and what's more, we won't put up with it. Your uncle'll
ha' summat to say, I'll warrant."

John heard no more, for, seeing that the good woman was working
herself up into a most unchristian fury, and being, moreover, in no
mood to meet the astonished queries of Margery Formby, he went quickly
out of the room and out of the house, resolved to extract an
explanation from Sally without delay.

Very bitter and angry was his mood, far more bitter and angry than on
the evening when he had first beheld her. That which he had originally
dismissed as an unjust suspicion had now grown to be almost certainty;
and he waited doggedly the word which must confirm it. His blood
boiled within him as he thought of Sally's effrontery. It was an
insult, an unpardonable impertinence; one which he was, indeed,
resolved never to pardon. He would make her confess, and then he would
have done with her for ever.

Had his temper been less wrathful he might have been touched at the
joyful alacrity with which she sprang to meet him. It had needed no
call to bring her to his side; some instinct seemed to have warned her
of his coming, and she had caught sight of him while still a long way
off and hastened towards him as he approached. She uttered a little
cry of joy as her eyes fell upon her gift.

"Eh! ye've got it on! It looks gradely."

"It looks gradely, does it?" returned John grimly. "I've a word or two
to say to you about this, Sally? Where did you get this? Is this the
handkerchief that was stolen from Mr. Lambert of Saltfield?"

Sally looked back at him quite unabashed, and began to laugh.

"Think o' your guessin'!" she cried. "Well, doesn't it suit ye a dale
better nor yon ugly owd chap?"

John turned quite pale; then, with an oath and a sudden fier