"Oh!-then she has not been staying there as a regular inmate?"
"No. She's been picking up a living at seampstering in Melchester for several months, at the house of a very respectable widow-woman who takes in work of that sort. She only got handy the Union-house on Sunday morning 'a b'lieve, and 'tis supposed here and there that she had traipsed every step of the way from Melchester. Why she left her place, I can't say, for I don't know; and as to a lie, why, I wouldn't tell it. That's the short of the story, ma'am."
"Ah-h!"
No gem ever flashed from a rosy ray to a white one more rapidly than changed the young wife's countenance whilst this word came from her in a long drawn breath. "Did she walk along our turnpike-road?" she said, in a suddenly restless and eager voice.
"I believe she did... Ma'am, shall I call Liddy? You bain't well, ma'am, surely? You look like a lily—so pale and fainty!"
"No; don't call her; it is nothing. When did she pass Weatherbury?"
"Last Saturday night."
"That will do, Joseph; now you may go."
"Certainly, ma'am."
"Joseph, come hither a moment. What was the colour of Fanny Robin's hair?"
