“What’s the matter with you? Got a pain?”
“Just a little pain,” said Jean, trying to smile.
“You’ll get used to the stairs hafter a day or two. Just pour yourself hout another cup of tea and start your second hegg—that’ll make you feel better.”
“I don’t think I want another egg,” said Jean.
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Lightfoot severely. “The hegg’s been cooked, and you’ve got to eat it. I won’t ’ave any waste in this ’ouse.”
“Does Miss Cheale really think she’ll get Mr. Garlett off?”
“She do, indeed! She thinks she saw the murderer—a strange-looking chap ’e was—in the ’ouse that very hafternoon.”
Mrs. Lightfoot leaned forward. “But it’s my belief, Bet, that she’s just made that up! If so, they’ll soon find it hout. She’ll never save ’im, bless you! She don’t know as much as I do about murder.”
Mrs. Lightfoot smiled a broad cheerful smile. “My poor ’usban’ used ter say: ‘’Ow you can care to read about them ’orrible occurrences passes me, Jemima.’ But I’ve made a special study of ’em from childhood.”
“But if she thinks she can prove he’s innocent,” asked Jean in a trembling voice, “why doesn’t she do it now? Why wait for the trial?”