“Well, you’ll see,” the woman answered. “’Twill be soon settled. The justice is crossing the road now, and that Bishop with him; and that little wizened chap of a clerk that makes up the Salutation books. And the man that keeps the gaol at Appleby: they’ve been waiting for him—he’s to take her. And there’s a chaise ordered to be ready if it’s wanted. It’s true, as I stand here!”
Mrs. Gilson’s form swelled until it was a wonder the whalebone stood. But in those days things were of good British make.
“A chaise?” she said.
“Yes.”
“There’s no chaise,” the landlady answered firmly, “goes from here on that errand!”
Modest Ann knew that when her mistress spoke in that tone the thing was as good as done. But the waiting-maid, whose heart, for all her temper, was softer than her features, at which Jim the ostler was supposed to boggle, was not greatly comforted.
“They’ll only send to the Salutation,” she said despondently.
“Let them send!” the landlady replied. And taking off her apron, she prepared to face the enemy. “They’ll talk to me before they do!”
But Ann, great as was her belief in her mistress, shook her head.
“What can you do against the law?” she muttered. “I wish that Bishop may never eat another morsel of hot victuals as long as he lives! Gravy with the joint? Never while I am serving!”