“I’m glad to hear it, I’m sure!” she made shift, however, to answer Emma with spurious heartiness. (“I’ll be getting your bit o’ supper now, shall I, Ann Clapham?) Ay, it’ll be a grand thing if you’ve helped her along the road.”
“It’s a sad business, of course; there’s no getting past that”—Emma drew herself up, and took in a big breath—“but she’s been fretting herself a deal more than she need. It’s bad enough, I’m sure, to have gone and lost the poor lass, without fretting herself as she’ll have to loss almshouse an’ all.”
“Eh?” Mrs. Tanner’s mouth opened, and she stood, gaping. “Loss t’ almshouse, did you say?” Emma inclined her head.... “What, but there’s no need——” she began again, and came to a sharp stop. She, too, had suddenly remembered the children.
“Yon’s exactly what I’ve been telling her,” Emma took her up smoothly, precisely as if she had finished her clipped sentence. “Yon children o’ poor Tibbie’s ’ll be wanting a home, if you’ll think on, and she’s been thinking she’d have to take ’em and go back to her job. But there isn’t no need for anything o’ the sort, as I’ve pointed out. She can have her house as was fixed, and the children can come to me.”
“To you!” Mrs. Tanner’s eyes flew round to her again as if pulled by a string, and her birdlike pipe rose to a scream. It was as if something tiny and feathered and flitting had descried the appearance of an enormous cat. “Nay, then ... you can’t mean it ... they’ll never be coming to you!”
“Ay, but I reckon they will,” Emma replied calmly, though her colour deepened. “Mrs. Clapham and me have just finished fixing it up.”
Mrs. Tanner exploded without giving herself time to think. “Nay, then, I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed sharply. “You’ve made a mistake somewheres, Emma Catterall, and that’s flat!”
“I don’t reckon I have.”
“What, she’d never think o’ such a thing! It’d near finish her ... she’d never dream ...” Mrs. Tanner twittered, looking helplessly from one to the other, and then, as Emma’s smile began to glimmer afresh, she turned desperately to Mrs. Clapham. “What’s she after, Ann?” she inquired miserably. “You’re never letting her have them barns?”
Mrs. Clapham stared at the floor.