“You look tired,” said Mrs Seaton. “Did you walk? Sit down and rest.” Christie gladly obeyed.
“Mrs Lee speaks very highly of you—very highly indeed. You must have been very useful to her; and I dare say she was very kind to you.”
Remembering all they had passed through together, Christie could hardly restrain her tears. But, as the lady seemed to expect an answer, she said, with some difficulty—
“She was very kind to me, and I loved her dearly—and the children.”
It is possible Mrs Seaton did not consider much love necessary between mistress and maid. She did not look as though she did, as Christie could not help thinking as she glanced towards her.
“And you got on nicely with the children, did you? Of course you will have little to do here in comparison with what you must have had there. But my wilful Clement, I am afraid, you will find too much for you. He is a masterful lad.”
She did not speak regretfully, as though the child’s wilfulness grieved her very much, but rather the contrary. And, indeed, one could hardly wonder at the pride in her voice as Master Clement rushed in among them. He was a child that any mother would own with pride—a picture of robust health and childish beauty. His brown curls were sadly disordered. One arm was thrust into the sleeve of his frock, in a vain attempt to finish the dressing which Mattie had commenced. One foot was bare, and he carried in his hand his stocking and shoe. He walked straight up to his sister, saying gravely:
“Baby is crying, and I came to tell mamma.”
She did not answer him, but laying down Claude’s head on the pillow, she began to arrange his disordered dress. He submitted quite patiently to the operation, only saying, now and then, as he turned round to look in her face:
“Am I naughty, Tudie? Are you going to punish me?”