"One--two--three--four," counted the girl with a bitter smile, "four broken hearts, four mutilated lives, and the sun shines, and the birds sing--one hungers, thirsts, sleeps, and wakes again, and a benignant Creator suffers it; but hush! there are footsteps Catharine, hide me, quick."
"My dearie, don't look so scared like, it is only Mr. Raby--he passed an hour ago with the parson; but there is only wee Johnnie with him now."
"Is he coming in? I am sure I heard him lift the latch of the gate; you will keep your faith with me, Catharine?"
"Yes--yes, have I ever failed you; bide quiet a bit, he can not see you. He is only standing in the porch, for a sup of milk. I'll fetch it from the dairy, and he'll drink it and go."
"If only Johnnie were not there," murmured the girl, anxiously.
"No, no, he has sent him on most likely to the vicarage."