“Yes, up I goes, to find it was Mr Charles Vining, looking as bright and happy as could be—quite another man to what he was when he come last week.
“‘Ah,’ I says to myself, ‘you don’t know about your governor being here afore lunch, young man, or you’d be laughing the other side of your mouth.’ But I says aloud:
“‘To see Miss Bedford, sir?’
“‘No, my man,’ he says; and he looked at me very curious and hesitating, as if he’d like to have said ‘yes.’
“‘Show me in to your mistress,’ he says.”
“Now it’s a-coming!” said cook, rocking herself to and fro with excitement, and rubbing her hands softly together.
“Now what’s a-coming, stoopid?” said Edward gruffly. “What d’ye mean?”
“I—I only meant that the interesting bit was now coming—the denowment, you know,” said cook humbly, and seeking to mollify the insulted narrator by emptying the little stewpan, cloves, bits of ginger, and all into his mug.
“If you’re so precious clever, you’d better tell it yourself,” growled Edward fiercely, “instead of keeping on interrupting like that. Who’s to go on, I should like to know?”
“O, I’m sure cook didn’t mean nothing, Mr Eddard,” said the interested housemaid. “Do go on!”