How's that broth of a boy, Scarlett? Have you got your own way
about him, lovey?"
"Yes," said Bet. "Will has got his liberty by now." Her face turned
white. "We won't talk of that; there was a price to be paid and it's
paid. Will is free, that's a comfort."
"Yes," said Mother Bunch. "But there's a sore thrubble on ye, honey.
I see it in your eyes. I'm glad the lad's free. Ef they consailed a
lad like that in prison--why it would have been the death of him, my
dear. Will's the boy that must have his liberty. I expect you'll find
him quare and altered, even after one week of prison, Bet."
Bet's face brightened, "I'm glad that you, too, understand Will," she
said. "I knew that the prison would kill my lad. He's free now."
"And why arn't you with him, honey? Why, it's an iligant wedding you
ought to be having together, and Mother Bunch dancing an Irish jig,
and pouring down blessings on the heads of two of yez. Come now, Bet,
what's up? Spake your mind free to the old Irishwoman."
"I have nothing to tell, and I can't wait," said Bet.
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