"Sir Thomas is very kind, sir; Sir Thomas always was very kind,—poor gentleman!"
"Poor gentleman, indeed! you may well say that, Mrs. Jones. This family is in great affliction; you are no doubt aware of that." And Mr. Prendergast as he spoke got up, went to the door, and saw that it was firmly closed.
Mrs. Jones acknowledged that she was aware of it. "It was impossible," she said, "for servants to shut their eyes to things, if they tried ever so."
"Of course, of course," said Mr. Prendergast; "and particularly for a person so attached to them all as you are."
"Well, Mr. Pendrergrass, I am attached to them, certainly. I have seed 'em all born, sir—that is, the young ladies and Mr. Herbert. And as for her ladyship, I didn't see her born, in course, for we're both of an age. But it comes much to the same thing, like."
"Exactly, exactly; you are quite one of themselves, as Sir Thomas's sister said to me just now. 'Mrs. Jones is quite one of ourselves.' Those were her very words."
"I'm sure I'm much obliged to Miss Letty."
"Well, as I was saying, a great sorrow has come upon them all, Mrs. Jones. Now will you tell me this—do you know what it is? Can you guess at all? Do the servants know, down stairs?"
"I'd rather not be guessing on any such matters, Mr. Pendrergrass. And as for them, if they were impudent enough for the like, they'd never dare to tell me. Them Irish servants is very impudent betimes, only they're good at the heart too, and there isn't one'd hurt a dog belonging to the family."
"I am sure they would not," said Mr. Prendergast. "But you yourself, you don't know what this trouble is?"