“I don’t see why not,” she muttered. “I’m sure he likes her, or else he wouldn’t be so fond of coming out here to smoke a pipe with Joseph. And if they are gentry, why, gentry are only human flesh; and as to their money, I’ll be bound to say they’re not so much better off than we are, in spite of their show.”
There was another fierce attack upon the golden fluid in the white basin.
“He seems nice, does Cyril; very different to his brother. Poor Rue, she had an escape there; and I dare say this will only be a bit of a flirtation with both of them. I shall not interfere, and matters may go as they like.”
The eggs once more suffered from the severe attack.
“It’s my belief Sage don’t know her own mind,” exclaimed Mrs Portlock. “Here, Anne, bring some more coals to this fire; I want the oven to be well hot.”
Just then there was the sound of the closing door, and Luke Ross entered, followed by Sage, looking more conscious than before.
“Morning, Mrs Portlock,” cried the young man frankly.
“Good-morning, Luke,” she replied. “Why didn’t you take him in the parlour, Sage? There’s a good fire there.”
“Because I begged to be allowed to come here, Mrs Portlock, so as not interfere with the preparations. My father said he would be glad to come.”
“Ah, that’s right!” exclaimed Mrs Portlock. “There, sit down by the fire; you must want a bit o’ lunch. Sage!—why, bless the girl, I didn’t see her go.”