“Oh la! master, it ain’t you, is it? It ain’t thieves and robbers, is it?”
“No, no. Open the door like a good girl.”
“And it ain’t an accident, is it?” continued Nanny partially dressing in haste. “Oh, I knows it’s a accident, Missus always prophesied as a accident would come to pass some day, which has come true. You’re not maimed, master?”
“No, no; be quick, girl!”
“Nor Willum ain’t maimed, is he? He ain’t dead? Oh don’t say Willum is—”
“Bill Garvie’s all right,” said the engine-driver, as he brushed past the girl and went up-stairs.
Now, although Mrs Marrot’s ears were totally deaf to locomotives they were alert enough to the sound of her husband’s voice. When, therefore, he entered the kitchen, he found her standing on the floor with an ample shawl thrown round her.
“Nothing wrong?” she inquired anxiously.
“Nothing, Molly, my dear, only I got a slight bruise on the leg in the engine-shed to-day, and I had to go up an’ show it to the doctor, d’ye see, before comin’ home, which has made me later than usual.”
“Are you sure it’s not a back hurt, father?” asked Loo, coming in at the moment—also enveloped in a shawl, and looking anxious.