"'Ere, sir," she said shrilly, "jes leave my mother be, d'ye see!"
"Your mother?" said Eustace, recalling Miss Cork's mention of a stolen child.
"Jus' so," snapped Tilly, making warlike demonstration with the yellow umbrella. "I'll call the policeman round the corner, an' he's a friend o' mine. It's bad enough for that old Betts to keep m' box, without m' mother being hit," and she again began to weep.
"Hush, child," said Miss Cork, sharply, and removing her arm from the grasp of Eustace. "I must speak with this gentleman. I had hoped never to see you again, Mr. Jarman"--with a curtsey--"as I have behaved ungrateful. But if you will put temptation in poor folks' way, you must take the consequence."
"But what temptation are you speaking of?"
"That's a long story," said Miss Cork. "We can't talk here, and Mrs. Betts, who employed my child, has turned her out of the house."
"Without m' box," snivelled Tilly, wiping her eyes with a pair of cotton lavender gloves. "Alt's presents is in it, too."
At that moment, looking very small and very fierce, and very like that celebrated Mrs. Raddle who persecuted Bob Sawyer, the mistress of the discharged servant appeared at the door. "Don't stop the road up before my house," she cried, shaking a mittened fist. "Not a box or a character will you get till you give up your wages for giving me only three days' notice."
"That's the way she goes on, sir," sobbed Tilly, "as if m' mother didn't want to take me away and make a real lady of me."
"Wait a moment," said Jarman, who knew the landlady, having once or twice visited Starth at these rooms. "I can arrange this. Now, Mrs. Betts," he said, striding to the door, "what is the matter?"