Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 134 of 400
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Caramel Cottage. 11g ever its cause might be. By-and-by, when it was at its height, she heard Mr. Reste dash out at the back door; she heard her father dash after him. In the yard there seemed to be a scuffle, more hot words, and then a sudden silence. Katrine rose and stole to the ‘window to look. She could not see either of them. But a noise in the kitchen beneath, as if the fire-irons were thrown down, seemed to say they had come back indoors. Another minute and her father came out with a lighted lantern in his hand; she wondered why, as it was moon- light. He crossed the yard and went into the back kitchen, or brew- house, as it was more often called, and Katrine, hoping the quarrel was over, got into bed again. Presently the back door was shut with a bang that shook the room, and footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, and afterwards all was quiet until morning. As on the past morning, so it was on this. When Katrine got down- stairs she found that neither her father nor Mr. Reste was up. She ‘breakfasted alone, and set off for the Manor afterward. But, as it chanced, she was to have partial holiday that day. Lena complained of a sore throat; she was subject to sore throats; so Miss Barbary was released when the lesson was half over and returned ‘home. Going to her room to take her bonnet off, she found Joan busy there. From the window she saw her father at work at the far end of the garden. ‘This was Thursday, the day of the projected walk to ‘Church Leet, and very lovely weather. But Mr. Reste had not said anything about it since the Tuesday afternoon. “Is Mr. Reste gone out, Joan?” “Mr. Reste is gone, Miss Katrine.” “Gone where ?” asked she. ‘Gone away; gone back to London,” said Joan. Upon which Katrine, staring at the old woman, inquired what she meant. It appeared that Mr. Barbary had left his chamber close upon Katrine’s departure, and sat down to breakfast. When he had ‘finished he called Joan to take the things away. She inquired whether ‘they had not better be left for Mr. Reste. He answered that Mr. ‘Reste was gone. What, gone away back to London, Joan cried, in ‘surprise ; and her master said, ‘‘ Yes.” ‘*‘ You might just have knocked me down with a feather, Miss Katrine, I was that took to,” added Joan now, in relating this. ‘Never to say good-bye to me, nor anything !” Katrine, thinking there was somebody else he had not said good- bye to, could hardly speak for amazement. ‘‘ When did he go, Joan? ‘Since breakfast? Or was he gone when I went out?” “Well, I don’t know,” pondered Joan; ‘‘it seems all a moither in my head; as if I couldn’t put this and that together. I never saw nor heard anything of him at all this morning, and I find his bed has mot been slept in, which looks as if he went last night. It’s odd, too, CORnnicloookks (SO) An