“You were nearly as much in fault as he,” she said sternly. “I do not approve of my servants, even if they are in fault, being addressed in such a tone.”
Mrs Mostyn walked away, and Daniel Barnett abstained from visiting at the cottage that night.
A week later old Tummus was reinstated without apologising to the head-gardener, after old Hannah had been up to the house and begged him on.
“No, ma’am,” she said, through her tears; “he hasn’t ’pologised, and he says he can’t, because it’s all true.”
“Then it is sheer obstinacy, Hannah,” said Mrs Mostyn.
“Yes, mum, that’s just what it is. Many’s the time his mother’s told me that he was the obstintest boy that ever lived, and well I know it. Once he’s said a thing, wild horses couldn’t make him alter it. And you see he’s seventy-five now, ma’am, and been sixty-three years in these gardens. He’s been growing obstin’t’ all this time, and I’m afraid you can’t change him now. Please, please, let him come back to work, mum; you’ll kill him if you don’t.”
“There, go away with you, you stupid woman, and tell him I’m very very angry with him for a careless, obstinate, wicked old man, and I don’t forgive him a bit; but he may come back to work, and you can ask the housekeeper to give you half-a-pound of tea as you go.”
Old Hannah went away, sobbing aloud, and so overcome that, in spite of the hot water which bedewed her cheeks, she forgot all about the tea.