"If it comes to the worst, we might let them have the mummy. Miss Sophy doesn't really care for it," suggested Nellie.
"They ain't agoing to have he. I wouldn't part wi' the dear old stuffed gentleman, not vor fifty pounds," cried Kezia.
"Oh dear!" sighed Nellie. "I can see very well we are in for a battle—feather beds torn in pieces—carpets rent asunder—you and Bessie tugging at opposite ends of Mrs. Drake's sofa. But suppose Robert brings a crowd!"
"I won't say a word," promised Kezia, breathing heavily with excitement. "They shan't know we'm going vor ever till the vans come. I suppose us couldn't move the things on a dark night, same as they does in towns?"
"Right under Bessie's window!" exclaimed Nellie. "Why, it will take them a whole day merely to pack the things."
"Robert won't let a thing be took. He ha' said so many a time. 'Not a stick, Kezia, is to go out of the house,' he says, 'unless I takes it.' Whatever shall us do, Miss Nellie?"
"We had better wait until Mr. George comes. Then, if he cannot suggest anything, I shall have to write and ask Mr. Hunter to come down and look after Miss Sophy's interests."
"But the furniture don't belong to she," objected Kezia.
"At all events she has a life interest in it," Nellie reminded her.
"Sure enough. Mrs. Drake said it wur to belong to Miss Sophy while she lived, but no longer. I suppose I'll have to see about letting the house now," Kezia remarked, gazing yearningly at the oleographs. "I did think once of living here, when Miss Sophy wur took, but it's too big vor me, and I'd feel lonely here. Besides, I wouldn't want to bring back the furniture. I ought to get thirty pounds vor it, and that's a nice bit coming in every year. Perhaps I might sell it, but I fancy Mrs. Drake wouldn't like me to do that. What would you do, if the place wur yours, Miss Nellie—would you let or sell it?"