"Did you hear people quarrelling?" he persisted.

"I heard people quarrelling," she sobbed. "I did. But I never saw, no
more than the dead, who it was."

"Whose voices were they?"

"How can I tell, sir? I wasn't near enough. There were two voices, a
man's and a woman's; but I couldn't catch a single word, and it did not
last long. I declare, if it were the last word I had to speak, that I
heard no more of the quarrel than that, and I wasn't no nearer to it."

She really did seem to speak the truth, in spite of her shrinking fear,
which was evident to all. Mr. Verner inquired, with incredulity equally
evident, whether that was sufficient to put her into the state of tremor
spoken of by young Broom.

Mrs. Roy hung her head.

"I'm timid at quarrels, 'specially if it's at night," she faintly
answered.

"And was it just the hearing of that quarrel that made you sink down on
your knees, and clasp hold of a tree?" continued Mr. Verner. Upon which
Mrs. Roy let fall her head on her hands, and sobbed piteously.

Robin Frost interrupted, sarcasm in his tone--"There's a tale going on,
outside, that you saw a ghost, and it was that as frighted you," he said
to her. "Perhaps, sir"--turning to Mr. Verner--"you'll ask her whose
ghost it was."