“Pevensel.”
“And what’s your business?”
Bess’s eyes smouldered at such cross-questioning. Mrs. Barbara’s attitude was brusque and insolent. She was in the habit of bullying the girls under her, and, like an underling intrusted with some authority, she made the most of it, and mistook impertinence for dignity.
“I want to see Mr. Jeffray,” quoth Bess, quietly.
“You do, do you?”
“Mr. Jeffray knows my name.”
Mrs. Barbara’s brows contracted, and there was an unpleasant glint in her brown eyes.
“And what may your business with the squire be?” she asked, suspiciously.
Bess reddened and began to look fierce.
“My business is not yours,” she retorted. “If you will tell Mr. Jeffray that I am here he will see me.”