“I can’t abear it, miss. It frightens and worries me.”
“Thisbe!”
“I can’t help it, miss. I’m a woman too, and seven years older than you are. Don’t, please don’t, take any notice of me. There, don’t look cross at me, miss. I must speak when I see things going wrong.”
“What do you mean?” cried Millicent, crimsoning. “I mean I used to lead you about when you was a little thing and keep you out o’ the puddles when the road was clatty, and though you never take hold o’ my hand now, I must speak when you’re going wrong.”
“Thisbe, this is a liberty!”
“I can’t help it, Miss Milly; I see him coming by in his creaking boots, and taking off his hat, and walking by here, when he has no business, and people talking about it all over the town.”
“And in this house. Thisbe, you are forgetting your place.”
“Oh, no, I’m not, miss. I’m thinking about you and Mr Hallam, miss. I know.”
“Thisbe, mamma and I have treated you more as a friend than a servant; but—”
“That’s it, miss; and I shouldn’t be a friend if I was to stand by and see you walk raight into trouble without a word.”