‘Well, there’s a young lady upstairs pouring out the master’s tea.’
‘So you told me before,’ said Jahez, taking a bite.
‘Where shall I go when I leave here, Jabez?’
Jahez swallowed a mouthful hurriedly.
‘I’m sure I don’t know, Susan.’
‘Then you ought to, that’s all I’ve got to say. How much longer do you think I’m going to stand your indifference? I tell you what it is, Jahez, I shall give you till I get notice to leave here, and I shan’t give you a moment longer.’
Jahez, whose eyes had been cast down, looked up hurriedly.
‘That’s a bargain!’ he said. ‘I’ll agree to it. Let’s draw it up in writing. I agree to marry you directly you get notice to leave.’
Mrs. Turvey tossed her head.
‘Dror it up in writing? Oh dear no, Mr. Jabez. It’s droved up in quite enough writing already for me. I suppose you fancy as there’s nothing in it upstairs. Perhaps you’ve been a-pryin’ into the master’s private affairs, and know something. Dror it up, indeed! Not with them there poems o’ yours in my workbox upstairs. You must think me a cake!’