What's of her?
Why couldn't she ha' come home, as she said ?" He set his wits to work to divine what _could_ have "gone of her"-- alluding, of course, to Rachel.

And a bright thought occurred to him--really not an unnatural one--that she had probably taken the other road home.

It was a longer round, through the fields, and there were stiles to climb, and gates to mount; which might account for the delay.
He arrived at the conclusion, though somewhat slow of drawing conclusions in general, that if he returned home that way, he should meet Rachel; and could then ask the question.
If he turned to his left hand--standing as he did at the gate with his back to the back of the house--he would regain the high road, whence he came.

Did he turn to the right, he would plunge into fields and lanes, and covered ways, and emerge at length, by a round, in the midst of the village, almost close to his own house.

It was a lonely way at night, and longer than the other, but Master Dan Duff regarded those as pleasant evils, in comparison with a "basting." He took his hands out of his pockets, brought down his feet to a level, and turned to it, whistling still.
It was a tolerably light night.