to me, or Mary Anne there, or any livin soul in Clinton? Did yer?'

She waited, hawk-like, for the answer. 'Did yer, John?' repeated
Saunders, judicially. John groaned, rocking himself to and fro. 'Noa.
I niver did--I niver did,' he said. 'Nobbut to Eliza--an she's gone--
she's gone!' 'Keep your 'ead, John,' said Saunders, putting out a
calming hand. 'Let's get to the bottom o' this, quiet an _reg'lar_. An
yer didn't tell any one 'ow much yer 'ad?' 'Nobbut Eliza--nobbut
Eliza!' said the old man again.

'Yer didn't tell _me_, I know,' said Saunders, blandly.

John seemed to shrink together under the smith's glance. If only he had
not been a jealous fool, and had left it with Saunders!

Saunders, however, refrained for the present from drawing this
self-evident moral. He sat twirling his cap between his knees, and his
shrewd eye travelled round the kitchen, coming back finally to Bessie,
who was washing and drying diligently. As he watched her cool movements
Saunders felt the presence of an enemy worthy of his steel, and his
emulation rose.

'I understan, Mrs. Costrell,' he said, speaking with great civility, 'as
the cupboard where John put his money is a cupboard _hon_ the stairs?
Not in hany room, but _hon_ the stairs? Yer'll kindly correck me if I
say anythin wrong.'

Bessie nodded.

'Aye--top o' the stairs--right-'and side,' groaned John.