She raised the lid, shut it again, had another look at Revitts, and then went on:
“Who should come in but old Blakeford, and he said gruffly that they couldn’t snare me, and, ‘Can’t spare me!’ I says; ‘well, you just must, for I’m going.’
“‘Then we shan’t pay you your wages,’ says old Blakeford. ‘Then I will make you,’ says I, ‘So now then. I’m not going to have people die for want of help, to please you.’
“‘Who is it then as is dying?’ says Mrs Blakeford.
“‘It’s my sweetheart, mum, if you must know,’ I says.
“‘Then all I can say is, that it’s very indelicate of you, a young unmarried woman, to go up and nurse a single man.’
“‘No more indelicate, mum,’ I says, ‘than for you to want me to nuss Mr Blakeford when he was ill.’
“‘But you didn’t do it,’ she says.
“‘No, mum,’ I says, ‘but you wanted me to, and what’s more, if the whole world and his wife come to me and told me it wasn’t right for me to go, I should go; so now then.’
“‘But when will you come back then, Mary?’ says Mrs Blakeford.