“Send your boy up to Mrs. Slater’s, will you, Jim? We want our luggage taken from there to Mrs. Warren’s cottage at Corlot.”
“You be agoin’ away?” asked the man eagerly.
“Yes.”
“I be mighty glad, sirs. I do’ant mean to be rude, sirs, of course we shall miss you sorely, but the ‘Curse’ has hit us sore hard since you came.”
“Then you’ll send your boy, Jim?”
Jim scratched his head. “Couldn’t you manage it yourselves?”
“Surely it won’t harm you to help us out of Marshfielden?” said Alan bitterly.
“I do’ant rightly know, sir, but—”
“Well?”
“I’d rather lend you my trolley, sir, than my boy. I do be mighty feared of the ‘Curse’.”