“I’d a friend at the Old Bailey, one of the judge’s clerks—my ’usband’s uncle was Mr. Justice Barnaby’s clerk—and that gives me a sort o’ connection with the law. So they’re very kind to me when I goes down to the Old Bailey, and I could get in much oftener than I does if I could leave the ’ouse. Still, as I ’opes and believes you’ll be ’ere when ’Enry Garlett’s trial takes place, I’ll just give myself the treat of seeing my poor Miss Cheale in the witness-box.” She waited a moment to take breath, then added significantly: “You just look over there!”
Jean turned round quickly to see a great pile of newspapers lying in a corner of the kitchen.
“Miss Cheale takes in five newspapers a day, if you’ll believe me—just with the idea of seeing something new about that hawful affair. If it had been war-time I could ’ave made my fortune out of them old papers, but now the dustman wants to be paid for carrying them away! But there! I do get something out of it, for o’ course I reads ’em all—when I ’ave the time, that is! As for Miss Cheale, she just pores over them, and hevery one of the Sunday papers she takes in too. I ’aven’t ’ad time yet to look over yesterday’s. But I will this evenin’, and it’ll be a treat for you too, Bet. There was something in one of them papers as greatly upset Miss Cheale. She wouldn’t say nought about it—but I knew! It’s never out of her mind, that it isn’t. She even talks about it in her sleep. My last girl used to ’ear her, and it fair give ’er the creeps.”
“Hadn’t I better begin washing up?” asked Jean timidly.
“Well, yes, I reckon you ’ad. All the people in this ’ouse goes out to work for their daily bread. Leastways, all but one does. I won’t ’ave no drones if I can ’elp it. No drones and no—you can guess what sort I mean for all you’re an hinnocent young thing. I could ’ave made a lot of money, retired too, and lived in peace and plenty, if I ’adn’t been a respectable woman, but there! I can’t help it—I just ham.”
Jean made no reply to that obviously truthful statement. Instead, she carried the tea-things she had used one after the other to the broad sink.
“Hullo,” called out Mrs. Lightfoot suddenly, “ever ’eard of a tray?”
The girl turned round surprised.
“How stupid of me,” she exclaimed. And then suddenly her heart almost stopped beating, for Mrs. Lightfoot walked straight up to her and said, “You’ve never been hout before? You’re not the plain country lass I took you for. What har you?”
“I’m the daughter of a man of business, Mrs. Lightfoot. My father failed before he died. I never was taught to do anything, though I did what I could in a hospital during the war. When I heard of your situation last week I was on my beam ends.”