“Mrs Sturt,” she said, “I cannot pay you now; give me till Saturday.”
“That won’t do for my master, ma’am; he won’t be put off.”
“But the work I have in hand, Mrs Sturt, will half pay you—you shall receive that.”
“I’m tired on it,” said Mrs Sturt, turning to the door; “p’r’aps I’d better send him up.”
“Oh, mamma,” said the girl, in a low, frightened voice, and she turned of a waxen pallor, “don’t let him come here.”
And she clung trembling to her arm as the retreating footsteps of Mrs Sturt were heard, and, directly after, her vinegary voice in colloquy with her husband.
“Here, I’ll soon let ’em know,” he was heard to say, roughly.
The trembling girl hid her face on her mother’s shoulder; but only to start up directly, very pale and firm, as Barney’s heavy step was heard.
“Blame me if I can stand this,” muttered Jenkles.
Then without a word he stuck his hat on his head and walked out of the room, in time to meet the master of the house on the stairs.