“No such luck!” lamented the valet. “I’m to be mewed up here. That black crow yonder will rob me of all your sweet smiles, my charmer.”
“Indeed he won’t!” said Jenny. “I don’t like the look of him, I can tell you.”
At that moment the new servant, and his partner, the dairy-maid, whisked round close beside them, and Jenny saw, from the amused twinkle in his dark eyes, that Jackson had overheard her disparaging remark.
“He looks as if he hadn’t washed himself this week,” observed Mr Featherstone, whose complexion was fair.
“He’s an ill-looking fellow,” replied Jenny.
“Do you hear what they say of you?” asked Fortune, the dairy-maid, of her partner.
“I hear ’em,” was Will Jackson’s reply.
“Won’t you knock him down?”
“I think not. Wouldn’t be convenient to the Colonel.”
“I doubt you’re chicken-hearted,” replied she.