"Not that I know of."
"But he has not taken any of his things."
"I am going to pack his things and send them after him."
"But----_when_ did he go, papa?"
Mr. Barbary, who had kept on working, drew himself bolt upright. Letting
his hands rest on the handle of his spade, he looked sternly into
Katrine's face.
"He went last night."
"He----he never told me he was going. He never said anything about it."
"And why should he tell you?" demanded Mr. Barbary. "It was enough that
he told me. He thought he had been quite long enough away from his work,
and that it was high time to go back to it. I thought the same. That's
all, Katrine; you need not inquire further. And now you can go indoors."
She walked slowly up the narrow path, conscious that some mystery must
lie behind this. Joan was standing in the yard, outside the back-kitchen
door, trying to pull it open.
"This here back'us door's locked!" exclaimed Joan, in her country
vernacular. "I want the spare jack out; t'other's given way at last."
"It can't be locked," dissented Katrine. "It never is."
"Well, I've never known the door locked afore; but 'tis now, Miss
Katrine. I noticed it was shut to all day yesterday, but I didn't try
it."
"It is only stuck," said Katrine, laying hold of the high old-fashioned
bow handle which served to lift the latch inside; and she shook it well.
"What's that? What are you about?" called out Mr. Barbary, dashing up
the path like a flash of lightning. "Let the door alone."
"Joan says it is locked, papa," said Katrine, frightened by his manner.
"And what if it is? I have locked up some--some wine there that came in.
How dare you meddle with the places I choose to keep closed?"
"It's the other jack I want out, sir," said Joan, hearing imperfectly.
"You can't have the other jack."
"But, master, the old jack's broke clean in two, and it's time to put
the lamb down."
"Cut it into chops," he cried, waving them both off, and standing,
himself, before the door, as if to guard it, with a white, imperious,
passionate face.
Single-minded old Joan went indoors, marvelling a little--such a bit of
a trouble for him to have opened the back'us door and given her out the
jack! Katrine followed, marvelling very much. She did not believe in the
wine: felt sure no wine had come in; they never had any; what was it
that was locked up there? All in a moment a thought flashed over her
that it might be game: poached game: pheasants and partridges and hares.
But, upon that thought came another: why should the spoil have been
brought in on Tuesday night when it had never (as she believed) been
brought before? Just a little came in for their own use, nothing more.