“Then we’ll call you Betty too.”
She went away, saying that she’d come back with her aprons. Tod looked after her.
“You like her, don’t you, Johnny?”
“That I do. She’s a good sort; honest as can be. You did not ask her about wages.”
“Oh, time enough for that,” said he.
And Betty turned out to be good as gold. Her history was a curious one; she told it to me one evening in the kitchen; in her small way she had been somewhat of a martyr. But God had been with her always, she said; through more trouble than the world knew of.
We had a letter from Mrs. Todhetley, redirected on from Sanbury. The chief piece of news it contained was, that the Squire and old Jacobson had gone off to Great Yarmouth for a fortnight.
“That’s good,” said Tod. “Johnny lad, you may write home now.”
“And tell about Rose Lodge?”