Alack-a-day; we're as hungry as hawks."
"You come to do hawks' business, sir," said Rotha, "in spoiling
another's nest."
"Ha! ha! ha! happy conceit, forsooth! But there's no need to glare at
us like that, my sharp-witted wench. Come, lead on, but go slowly,
there. This leg of mine has never mended, bating the scar, since
yonder unlucky big brother of yours tumbled me on the mountains."
"He's not my brother."
"Sweetheart, then, ey? Why, these passages are as dark as the grave."
"I wish they were as silent, and as deep too, for those who enter
them."
"Ay, what, Jonathan? Grave, silent, deep--but then you would be buried
with us, my pretty lassie."
"And what of that? Here's your room, sirs. Peradventure it will serve
until you take every room." "Remember the breakfast," cried the little
man, after Rotha's retreating figure. "We're as hungry as--as--"
"Hold your tongue, and come in, David. Brush the mud from your
pantaloons, and leave the girl to herself."
"The brazen young noddle," muttered David.
It was less than an hour later when Rotha, having got through her
immediate duties, was hastening with all speed to Mattha Brander's
cottage.
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