“I hope it isn’t for what I said about the servants, Marjory. Of course, I didn’t mean to vex you; but you know yourself, unless a change is made at once, it is never made; and dear Charlie was so set upon it that I should be mistress of my own house.”
“You are quite right, and I am not vexed;” said Marjory, with a smile; and it was thus hurriedly, without any more leave-taking, before the weeping maids had time to gather from all the corners, to take leave of her, that she left, as she thought for ever, her father’s house.
CHAPTER XXIII.
“Go away, go away, you taupies!” said Fleming; “go away to your wark; what’s the use o’ a wheen women, girnin’ and greetin’ about the place? It’s a’ I can to do to keep things gaun, saftly and steadily, for the credit of the house, so long as my time lasts—without distraction from you.”
“Whar’s Miss Marjory?” said the housemaid. “If you think it’s you we’re wanting you’re far mistaken. Maister Fleming, it was ill done of you to let her go away, and never to say a word. Eh, what changes in this house since I came here! I’ve been here ten year come the term—”
“And me mair than that!” said Beenie, who was kitchenmaid under Mrs. Simpson, and nearly as good a cook as her superior. “I mind her when she was a bit lassie, and me no much mair myself. If any have reason to be down-hearted about the family it’s me, that am the longest here, except Mr. Fleming. Eh! but I’m wae no’ to have seen the last of her—as I’ve seen the last o’ a’ the rest.”
“For guidsake, woman, dinna speak as if Miss Marjory was dead like the rest!” cried another. They all stood round the door, gazing out after the rumbling old carriage as it jolted along the drive. Mr. Charles had turned from the door, and was visible in the distance, making towards the side entrance into his beloved refuge. Marjory’s maid set up a dismal cry at the sight of the departing vehicle. “Oh, my young leddy! my bonny young leddy!” she cried. “I’m no so auld as some of you, but that’s no my fault; and I’ve seen mair of Miss Marjory than the whole of you put together. Eh! will I never see her mair? will she never come back to this dreary house? We may get as good places, but there will never be the like of her in Pitcomlie again.”
“Haud you your tongue, my woman!” said Fleming, patting her on the shoulder. “If Miss Marjory had thought as much of you as you do of her, she would have taken you with her. She’s no that ill left but what she can keep her maid like any other leddy. Haud a’ your tongues—”
“What’s a’ this, Sirrs?” said Mrs. Simpson, suddenly appearing on the field. “Miss Marjory? If Miss Marjory was gane twenty times o’er, is that a reason for neglecting the wark? Wark maun be done, whoever goes or stays. Death itself makes little difference. Mr. Fleming, it’s no what I expected of you, to encourage those taupies in their idleness. Go away to your wark, go away every one of you. I’ll speak to Miss Marjory—Lord bless us! I’ll never mind that Miss Marjory’s nae longer the mistress here. Now thae woman are gane, I’m free to say that it makes a great difference to the place, Mr. Fleming. I’ve nothing to say against English leddies; there are ower many of them in the country-side for the like of us to find fault; but Mistress Chairles is no to my taste—she’s no to my taste. I’ve learnt what it was to have leddies over me that were grand at understanding, and I canna put up with a whippersnapper like that.”
Fleming nodded his head in assent; he nodded so often that one of the young maid-servants, lurking at a distance, had nearly betrayed herself by laughter; but there was no merriment in his mind. “You’re in the right of it there!” was all he said.