“I cannot visit in cottages,” said poor Emmie with something like a gasp, as she passed through the gateway and then stopped, as if she now felt herself safe.
“Ah! that’s what my poor dear lady was always saying, Miss Trevor,” observed Jael Jessel, who had followed her into the grounds. “Mrs. Myers was the kindest of creatures; but she was too nervous to visit her tenants. ‘You go for me, Jessel,’ was always her words; ‘you know every one here, you know who is sick, and who has had twins, who wants soup, and who would like a hundred of coals. It is you that must visit for me.’”
“I wish that some one would visit for me!” escaped from the unwary lips of Emmie.
“Oh! I’ll do it with all the pleasure in life, miss!” cried Mrs. Jessel, her bugles trembling with the eagerness with which she clinched what she chose to regard as an offer of employment. “There is nothing that I like better than looking after the poor dear folk round about. You see I’ve now a deal of time on my hands. You have only to tell Hannah, miss, to let me have what goes from your table, or a drop of broth now and then, and there shall be no trouble to any one; I’ll bring my own basket to carry the food, and you’ll have the satisfaction, Miss Trevor, of knowing that every one here is well looked after.”
“You are very kind,” said Emmie, who thought that it would indeed be a comfort to have a substitute to do the work for which she herself was proved to be so unfit.
“I was just going up to the Court, Miss Trevor, to hunt after the tabby of which my poor dear lady was so fond,” observed Mrs. Jessel; “the creature misses her so—every one misses her so! I can’t keep my cats from wandering back to the old house, where she used to feed them with her own hands. I’ll just tell Hannah your wishes, Miss Trevor, she’ll understand what you want. You’d have the cottagers cared for, and you make over the care of them all to me.”
“Pray take some food at once to poor Mrs. Brant,” said Emmie.
“She shan’t go to bed without a good supper, and I’ll tell her who sends it,” cried Mrs. Jessel; “meat is the physic she wants. It’s not for ladies like you, Miss Trevor, to be soiling their nice dresses by going in and out of dirty cottages, and may be hearing bad language, or meeting, perhaps, with rudeness. It’s for those who are used to the work, like me; those who know the ins and the outs, the whys and the wherefores; who are neither easily taken in, nor easily frightened. Yes, I’ll do all that is wanted,—you may rest quite easy, Miss Trevor.”