“Not that I know of,” stammered Miss: “but you should be in the field now, Heathcliff. It is an hour past dinnertime: I thought you were gone.”

“Hindley does not often free us from his accursed presence,” observed the boy. “I’ll not work any more today: I’ll stay with you.”

“Oh, but Joseph will tell,” she suggested; “you’d better go!”

“Joseph is loading lime on the further side of Penistone Crags; it will take him till dark, and he’ll never know.”

So, saying, he lounged to the fire, and sat down. Catherine reflected an instant, with knitted brows⁠—she found it needful to smooth the way for an intrusion. “Isabella and Edgar Linton talked of calling this afternoon,” she said, at the conclusion of a minute’s silence. “As it rains, I hardly expect them; but they may come, and if they do, you run the risk of being scolded for no good.”