“Rough? Not a bit of it. He is a rough diamond, if he be.”
“I fancied from what Sam said when he came back to Carlisle—”
“Oh, we had seen nought of him then. He has done more good at Brocklebank than Mr Digby did all the years he was there. You’ll see fast enough when you get back. ’Tis the nature of the sun to shine.”
“What do you mean by that, Aunt Kezia?”
“Keep your eyes open—that’s what I mean. Girls, your father bade me please myself about tarrying a bit before I turned homeward. I doubt I’m not just as welcome to your grandmother as to you; but I think we shall do best to bide till we see if the others can come with us. Maybe Ephraim may be ready to go home by then, too. ’Tis a bad thing for a young man to get into idle habits.”
“O Aunt Kezia, Ephraim is not idle!” I cried.
“Pray, who asked you to stand up for him, Miss?” replied my Aunt Kezia. “‘A still tongue makes a wise head,’ lass. I’ll tell you what, I rather fancy Mrs Desborough thinks me rough above a bit. If I’m to be stroked alongside of these fine folks here, I shall feel rough, I’ve no doubt. That smart, plush fellow, with his silver clocks to his silk stockings, took up my basket as if he expected it to bite his fingers. We don’t take hold of baskets that road in our parts. I haven’t seen a pair of decent clogs since I passed Derby. They are all slim French finnicking pattens down here. How many of those fine lords-in-waiting have you in the house?”
“Three, and a black boy, Aunt.”
“And how many maids?”
“I must count. Lucette and Perkins, and the cook-maid, and the kitchen girl, four; and two chambermaids, six, and a seamstress, seven.”