“Didn’t like it in France, from what she heard.”
“Very like not,” murmured Jenny.
“He’s got a place with Mr Chadderton—the young gentleman who was married of late, and who’s coming to live at Bentley Hall; so you’re like to see a bit of him again.”
“I don’t want to see him,” said Jenny suddenly. “I’d as lief he didn’t come nigh me.”
“You was used to like him middling well wasn’t you, Jenny?”
Before Jenny could answer, the very person of whom they were speaking appeared at a turn of the lane, coming towards them.
“Mrs Jenny Lavender, as I live!” said he. “Now, this is luck! I was on my way to the farm—”
“With your back to it?” asked Tom.
Mr Featherstone ignored both Tom and the question.
“Mrs Jenny, since I had the delight of sunning myself in your fair eyes, I have had the high honour of beholding His Most Gracious Majesty King Charles, who was pleased to command me to deliver into your white hands a jewel which His Majesty detached from his own hat. He—”