“Well, it is precious hard on you, Bessie,” said Geoffrey. “We make a regular slave of you amongst us. Why not have a woman to come in and help? Money isn’t flush: but I can pay her.”
“Oh, no, Mr Trethick, I can manage,” cried Bess. “No woman would come here to help.”
Geoffrey frowned.
“We’re such a bad lot, eh?”
“They don’t like me,” said Bess, smiling; “and father would not care to have a strange woman here.”
“And so you get worked to death,” said Geoffrey. “I don’t like it, Bess, my lassie,” he continued, while the girl flushed slightly with pleasure, as she noted the interest he took in her. “Something must be done, or I shall be obliged to take Madge away and get her lodgings elsewhere.”
“You’ll—you’ll take Miss Mullion away?” cried Bess excitedly, as she laid her hand upon his arm. “No, no: don’t do that, Mr Trethick.”
“Why not? Would you rather she stayed here?”
“Yes,” said Bess softly, “I would rather she stayed here. I’ll do the best I can for her.”
“God bless you, Bessie!” cried Geoffrey warmly. “You’re a good, true-hearted lass, and I shall never forget your kindness. Well, I must see if some help can’t be managed for you.”