I believe
the old fool goes to bed. Well, they've waked him up for me, any way."
There was some consolation in this surmise, which was well founded.
When Rosewarne reached the toll-bar there was at least a light in the
small house. He struck on the door with the handle of his riding-whip,
and called out, "Hi, hi! Job! Come out, you old fool!"
An old man with very bandy legs came hobbling out of the toll-house,
and went to open the gate, talking and muttering to himself: "Ay, ay!
so yue be agwoin' after the young uns, Maister Rosewarne? Ay, ay! yue'll
go up many a lane and by many a fuzzy 'ill, and acrass a bridge or
two, afore yue come up wi' 'en, Maister Rosewarne."
"Look sharp, Job!" said Rosewarne. "Carriage been through here
lately?"
"Ay, ay, Maister Rosewarne! 'tis a good half hour agone."
"A half hour, you idiot!" said Rosewarne, now in a thoroughly bad
temper. "You've been asleep and dreaming. Here, take your confounded
money!"
So he rode on again, not believing, of course, old Job's malicious
fabrication, but being rendered all the same a little uncomfortable by
it.
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