John brightened wonderfully.
‘Don’t you trouble, my dear. That’s all right. Things’ll come round somehow. You’re a good girl. Good-night, my darlin’!’
He kissed her, and went consoled to his rest.
Miss Peckover kept going up and down between the kitchen and the front door. Down below, Jane was cleaning a copper kettle. Clem, who had her sweetest morsel of cruelty yet in store, had devised this pleasant little job as a way of keeping the child employed till all was quiet.
She had just come down to watch the progress of the work, and to give a smart rap or two on the toiling fingers, when a heavy footstep in the passage caused her to dart upstairs again. It was Bob Hewett, returned from his evening recreations.
‘Oh, that’s you, is it?’ cried Clem. ‘Come down; I want to speak to you.’
‘Wait till to-morrow,’ answered Bob, advancing towards the stairs.
‘Wait! we’ll see about that!’
She sprang forward, and with a prompt exertion of muscle, admirable in its way, whirled Bob round and dragged him to the head of the kitchen flight. The young fellow took it in good part, and went down with her.
‘You go up into the passage,’ said Clem to her servant, and was immediately obeyed.