Chapter XXVI: “fool, Do Not Flatter.”

When Mrs. Garth reached home, after her interview with Rotha in the road, there was a velvety softness in her manner as of one who had a sense of smooth satisfaction with herself and her surroundings.

The blacksmith, who was working at a little bench which he had set up in the kitchen, was also in a mood of more than usual cheerfulness.

“Ey, he's caught--as good as caught,” said Mrs. Garth.

Her son laughed, but there was the note of forced merriment in his voice.

“Where do they say he is--Lancaster?”

“That's it, not a doubt on't.”

“Were they sure of him--the man at Lancaster?”

“No, but _I_ were when they telt me what mak of man it was.”

The blacksmith laughed again over a chisel which he was tempering.

“It's nothing to me, is it, mother?”

“Nowt in the warld, Joey, ma lad.”

“They are after him for a traitor, but I cannot see as it's anything to me what they do with him when they catch hod on him; it's nothing to me, is it, mother?”

“Nowt.”

Garth chuckled audibly. Then in a low tone he added,--

“Nor nothing to me what comes of his kin afterwards.”

He paused in his work; his manner changed; he turned to where Mrs. Garth was coiled up before the fire.

“Had _he_ any kin, mother?”

Mrs. Garth glanced quickly up at her son.

“A brother, na mair.”

“What sort of a man, mother?”

“The spit of hissel'.”

“Seen anything of him?”

“Not for twenty year.”

“Nor want to neither?”

Mrs. Garth curled her lip.