“She’ll be coming again, sir, soon?” said the old woman after a pause.
“No, not she—no,” said the Squire.
“Not returnin’ to Wyvern, sir?”
“While there’s breath in my body she’ll never darken these doors.”
“Sorry she should ’a displeased you, sir,” said the good-natured little woman with a curtsey.
“Displease ye! Who said she displeased me? It ain’t the turning of a pennypiece to me—me, by ——. Ha, ha! that’s funny.”
“And—what do you wish done with the bed and the furniture, sir? Shall I leave it still in the room, please?”
“Out o’ window wi’t—pitch it after her; let the work’us people send up and cart it off for the poor-house, where she should ’a bin, if I hadn’t a bin the biggest fool in the parish.”
“I’ll have it took down and moved, sir,” said the old woman, interpreting more moderately; “and the same with Mrs. Crane’s room; Dulcibella, she’s gone too?”
“Ha, ha! well for her—plotting old witch. I’ll have her ducked in the pond if she’s found here; and never you name them, one or t’other more, unless you want to go yourself. I’m fifty pounds better. I didn’t know how to manage or look after her—they’re all alike. If I chose it I could send a warrant after her for the clothes on her back; but let her be. Away wi’ her—a good riddance; and get her who may, I give him joy o’ her.”