“Yes—and it was just as Mrs. Harman said: there wasn't a stitch wanted! I went from place to place, asking—I nearly killed myself walking about: walking's harder for one not used to it than sitting ever so long! So I went back to Mrs. Harman, and told her. She said she couldn't have me just then, but she'd keep her eye on me. I went home nearly out of my mind. Artie was growing worse and worse, and I had nothing to do. It's a mercy it was warm weather; for when you haven't much to eat, the cold is worse than the heat. Then in summer you can walk on the shady side, but in winter there ain't no sunny side. At last, one night as I lay awake, I made up my mind I would go and see whether my father was as hard-hearted as people said. Perhaps he would help us over a week or two; and if I hadn't got work by that time, we should at least be abler to bear the hunger! So the next day, without a word to mother or Artie, I set out and came down here.”
“And you didn't see sir Wilton?”
“La, miss! who told you? Did I let out the name?”
“No, you didn't; but, though there are a good many baronets, they don't exactly crowd a neighbourhood! What did he say to you?”
“I 'ain't seen him yet, miss,—Barbara, I mean! I went up to the lodge, and the woman looked me all over, curious like, from head to foot; and then she said sir Wilton wasn't at home, nor likely to be.”
“What a lie!” exclaimed Barbara.
“You know him then, Barbara?”
“Yes; but never mind. I must ask all my questions first, and then it will be your turn. What did you do next?”
“I went away, but I don't know what I did. How I came to be sitting on that stone inside that gate, I can't tell. I think I must have gone searching for a place to die in. Then Richard came. I tried hard to keep him from knowing me, but I couldn't.”
“You knew that Richard was there?”