Bunn took the paper, all smiles and blushes.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Granville. And—and I beg your pardon, sir.’
‘Don’t name it, my good girl. But, look here, Bunn; stay one moment, if you don’t mind.’ (She could scarcely help staying, he gave her no chance of passing; besides, he had put her under an obligation.) ‘Tell me now, Bunn—didn’t Mrs Alfred know something about him? And didn’t Mrs Alfred talk to you a good deal about Australia?’
‘That she did, sir. But she didn’t know my young man, Mr Granville. She only got his address from me just as she was going away, sir.’
‘Ah! she wanted his address before she went away, did she?’
‘Yes, sir. She said she would name him in writing to her father, or in speaking to Mr Barrington, or that, any way, it’d be nice to have it, against ever she went out there again, sir.’
‘Oh, she gave three reasons all in one, eh? And did she say she’d like to go out again, Bunn?’
‘She always said that, sir, between ourselves—“between you and I, Bella,” it used to be. But, time I gave her the address, she went on as if she would like to go, and meant a-going, the very next day.’
‘Yet she didn’t like leaving this, even for a week—eh, Bunn?’
‘Lor’, no, sir! She spoke as if she was never coming back no more. And she kissed me, Mr Granville—she did, indeed, sir; though I never named that in the servants’ hall. She said there might be a accident, or somethink, and me never see her no more; but that, if ever she went back to Australia, she’d remember my young man, and get him a good billet. Them were her very words. But, oh, Mr Granville!—oh, sir!—--’