“Oh, I could not think of interfering,” said Beatrice, shaking her head. “Besides, it would be impossible. Henry gives the new mistress great latitude, and possibly he might approve of her corresponding with Mr Burge.”
“I—I don’t like letting her go,” said Rebecca, hesitating, a fact of which her sister was well aware. “I don’t think it is proper, and it seems to me to be our duty to take some steps in such matters as these.”
“I shall not interfere with Miss Thorne in any way,” replied Beatrice. “Henry is, I dare say, quite correct in his views respecting the mistress’s behaviour, and I certainly shall not expose myself to the risk of being taken to task again by my brother for interfering, as he called it at the schools. You had better make haste, Straggalls, and deliver your message.”
“Please, ’m, it’s a letter, ’m,” said Ann Straggalls in open eyed delight at catching the speaker tripping.
“Make haste on and deliver your letter, child,” said the lady with dignity; and the girl made two more bobs and hurried away.
“It was quite impossible, Rebecca,” said Beatrice reprovingly. “The letter is no business of ours.”
“Are we going down to the school to-day?” asked Rebecca.
“Not now,” replied her sister; “but we might call upon Mrs Thorne. I wonder what Mr Chute has had to do with that letter to Mr Burge.”
“Yes, I was wondering too. He was certainly talking to the girl Straggalls as we came into sight.”
And then, itching with curiosity, the sisters walked on.