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192 "Oons, no!" shouted Tom, with redoubled anger. "Not where thy fancy's caught, as I do believe 'tis caught now! I believe thou wouldst let us all hang for him, while thy fancy lasted, and kill thyself for spite and grief afterward. That's what I think of thee, Ann Price, and oons! to save thee from that grief, and to save all our necks, I'm going to tell the rest of the lads who thy visitor is!"

"You would dare!"

But before the words were well out of her mouth, Gardener Tom, with a fierce oath, had flung down a heavy wooden chair to impede her steps, and swung out of the house at a gait which, considering his lameness, was a rapid one.

Ann dashed into the porch after him, but stopped short with a cry on finding herself face to face with a tall figure enveloped in a long, hooded riding-cloak.

"Miss Joan!" cried she, in amazement.

Joan, who was standing at the entrance of the porch, with her horse's bridle on her arm, held out her hand; but she sighed as she did so, for she knew well the meaning of the attire Ann was wearing.