The good Mater stood, doubtful whether to pursue inquiries or to pass onwards. She liked the face of the girl, but did not like the profusion of blue ribbons.
“I understand my work well, ma’am, please; and I’m not afraid of any much of it, in reason.”
This turned the scale. Mrs. Todhetley stood her ground and plunged into questioning.
“Where have you been living?”
“At Mr. Thorpe’s farm, please, near Severn Stoke.”
“For how long?”
“Twelve months, please. I went there Old Michaelmas Day, last year.”
“Why are you leaving?”
“Please, ma’am”—a pause here—“please, I wanted a change, and the work was a great sight of it; frightful heavy; and missis often cross. Quite a herd o’ milkers, there was, there.”
“What is your name?”