“Will you walk in, ma’am?”
“Yes, Hayle, thank you,” said Mrs Rolph, speaking in a distant, dignified way, as of a mistress about to rebuke an erring servant.
She passed him, looking quickly round the room in search of Judith, and then, turning her eyes inquiringly upon the keeper, who drew a chair forward, and then stood back respectfully as Mrs Rolph sat down.
“Do you know why I have come here, Hayle?” she said, striving to speak as one who feels herself aggrieved.
“Yes, ma’am. ’Bout sending Judith home.”
“Your child has spoken to you?”
“No, ma’am.”
Mrs Rolph coughed faintly, to gain time. The task did not seem so easy in presence of this sturdy, independent-looking Englishman, and she regretted the tone she had taken, and her next remark as soon as it was spoken.
“Well, Hayle,” she continued, “what have you to say to this?”
“Nay, ma’am,” said the keeper coldly; “it’s what have you to say?”