“You should ’ave seen one man, you would ’ave died of laughing! ‘Get out,’ I said to ’im, ‘not another day’s work do you do ’ere!’ ‘Get out of the factory where I’ve worked for twenty years?’ ’e said, ‘Well, then, I shan’t, not for you! If the governor ’ad said so, it might be a different thing, but a woman ’as no right to come interfering in business as she knows nothing about!’ ‘That’s the way the wind lies,’ I replied, ‘and you want a man to turn you out! We’ll soon see if a woman can’t do it!’ and I took my stick and laid it on his back till he holload again. He was out of the place before you could say Jack Robinson! ‘’Ow will that do?’ I said to the others, ‘who else wants a taste of my stick before ’e’ll go!’ But they all cleared out before I ’ad done speaking! I laughed till I was ill! But come along, children! It’s time for dinner!” As they returned to the house, she accosted Harriet,
“I ’ope you’ve amused yourself to-day! You’ll ’ave to look after yourself whenever I’m at the factory! But a ’andsome gal like you won’t want long for amusement. We’ll ’ave plenty of company ’ere, soon! Miss Wynward,” she continued, as they entered the dining-room, “Mr. Milliken is coming to-morrow! See that ’is room is ready for ’im!”
“Very good, my lady!” replied Miss Wynward, but Harriet fancied she did not like the idea of Mr. Milliken staying with them.
The dinner proceeded merrily. It was more sumptuous than the day before, consisting of several courses, and the champagne flowed freely. Harriet, sitting at her ease and thoroughly enjoying the repast, thought that it atoned for all the previous inconvenience. But a strange incident occurred before the meal was over. The Baron, who was carver, asked Bobby twice if he would take some roast beef, and received no answer, which immediately aroused the indignation of the Baroness.
“Do you ’ear what your father is saying to you, Bobby?” she cried, shrilly. “Answer ’im at once or I’ll send you out of the room! Will you ’ave some beef?”
But still there was no reply.
“My lady! I think that he is ill,” said Miss Wynward in alarm.
“Ill! Rubbish!” exclaimed the Baroness. Being so coarse-fibred and robust a woman herself, she never had any sympathy with delicacy or illness, and generally declared all invalids to be humbugs, shamming in order to attract the more attention. She now jumped up from her seat, and going round to her son’s chair, shook him violently by the shoulder.
“’Ere, wake up! what are you about?” she exclaimed, “if you don’t sit up at once and answer your father’s question, I’ll lay my stick about your back!”
She was going to put her argument into effect, when Harriet prevented her.