'He may see her a bit,' she said; then, after a pause, 'he may see a good deal of her.'
'Ay.' Mrs. Jose looked up with distress into the clouded face of the mother. 'But what if he purposed taking her altogether away from you?'
'He cannot do that! He shall not do that!' almost screamed the mother, and then clenched her teeth and stood glaring at her visitor. Presently she said fiercely, 'Bring out that letter and read me every word. Pass none over. I must hear all.'
Mrs. Jose looked from side to side in embarrassment.
'The letter!' said Jane imperiously, and pressed the end of the knitting-pin on the table.
The farmer's wife was compelled to draw the epistle from her pocket and unfold it upon the board. She knew that Jane was illiterate, and it was her intention to soften down as much as possible the harsh expressions, but she could not blunt the edge of the cutting facts.
'Begin with the first words,' said Jane, and pointed with her knitting-pin.
'These are to me,' said Mrs. Jose. 'They are from Mrs. Tomkin-Jones about my chicken I sent her. She is a sort of cousin, and she begins affable enough, seeing the difference in our station in life, and all these first lines contain nothing further than what I have already told you, that Winefred has met her father, and that he is mightily taken with her.'
'How far does that go?' asked Jane, with the pin on the letter.
'To that point—there you have it—"pretty things." It is as I told you. He has bought them for her.'