and his accent and tone were such that a thrill seemed to pass over
the lady's whole person, but she controlled it, and only said, 'Tarry
till these have received their alms, then will I see to thee and thy
maimed foot. Give him a stool, Alice, while he waits.'

The various patients who claimed the lady's assistance were attended
to, those who needed food were relieved, and in due time the hall was
cleared, excepting of the lady, an old female servant, and Hob, who
had sat all the time with his foot on a stool, and his back against
the wall, more than half asleep after the toils and long journey of
the night.

Then the Lady Threlkeld came to him, and making him a sign not to
rise, said aloud, 'Good Gaffer, let me see what ails thy leg.' Then
kneeling down and busying herself with the bandages, she looked up
piteously in his face, with the partly breathed inquiry, 'My son?'

'Well, my lady, and grown into a stalwart lad,' was Hob's answer,
with an eye on the door, and in a voice as low as his gruff tones
would permit.

'And wherefore? What is it?' she asked anxiously. 'Be they on the
track of my poor boy?'

'They may be,' answered Hob, 'wherefore I deemed it well to shift our
quarters. As hap would have it, the lad fell upon a little wench
lost in the mosses, and there was nothing for it but to bring her
home for the night. I would have had her away as soon as day dawned,
and no questions asked, but the witches, or the foul fiend himself,
must needs bring up a snow-storm, and there was nothing for it but to