Kathleen looked at her in amazement. "But why, Betty?" she said. "I don't understand!"
"My Lady," interposed Mrs. Hanson, "if so be as I may be allowed to speak——" she paused, quivering with indignation, "'tis but right I should tell 'ee this, that this wayward, obstinate, perilous gel was forever in they old gardens before Mr. Homewood bought the old place, forever she was, spite of all I did say to she. Sometimes of nights I du verily believe she would rise and go stealing off to they gardens, a terribul state they was in too, and coming back wi' her frock all covered wi' green like and sometimes tored by the wall over which she did climb most shameful——"
Kathleen heard, she looked at the girl who stood with bowed head before her.
"Why did you go to the garden, Betty?" she asked softly.
"Because—oh I—I don't know, because—I can't—can't tell 'ee, my Lady, I can't tell 'ee, but it be all changed and altered now wi' great fences put up and—and my stone maid gone and 'twould break my heart, my Lady to go there and not see she, my stone maid, any more!"
"The stone maid is not gone, Betty, and the gardens have not been altered, but only made beautiful and they tell me that they must be just as they were in the old days!"
"I wonder, my Lady, as 'ee have the patience to talk wi' she!" said Mrs. Hanson.
But Kathleen took no notice. "So, Betty, will you come to me and be my little maid?"
"And glad and grateful!" said Mrs. Hanson. "Say it!" she commanded. "Elizabeth Hanson, say it, yes—and glad and grateful I du be, my Lady, to 'ee for your great kindness, and drop my Lady a curtsey, 'ee unmannerly maid, as I be sore ashamed of!"
"If only——" Kathleen thought, "if only the old woman would leave the child alone, poor Betty, I can see why that little spirit of hers was goaded into rebellion at last!"