Even Miss Malvern, for all her four-and-twenty years, turned instinctively to her in times of trouble, and was insensibly reassured by her air of competence. Tucked now into bed, told that there was no need to get into high fidgets, and adjured to go to sleep, she thought, snuggling into the feathered softness, that perhaps she had allowed herself to become too despondent, and that Sarah really did know best.
But Sarah, stumping downstairs again to the kitchen, was feeling far from competent; and although the dinner she presently set before her husband, her father-in-law, one of her nephews, and two of the lads employed in the stables, in no way betrayed her inward perturbation, she ate very little of her own portion, and was a trifle short in her responses to the remarks addressed to her. This circumstance did not escape the notice of Mr Nidd Senior, or of Mr Nidd Junior, but when the younger Nidd, a simple-minded soul, began anxiously to ask if anything were amiss his more astute sire cut him short, adjuring him not to be a jobbernoll, and inquiring affably of Sarah if it wasn’t Miss Kate he’d seen crossing the yard a while back. “Which I hopes it was,” he said, mopping up the gravy on his plate with a large lump of bread, “for she’s been first-oars with me from the moment I clapped eyes on her, and she’s heartily welcome. A prettier gal I never did see, and nothing niffy-naffy about her! Sweet as a nut, she is, but for all she don’t hold up her nose at folks like us she’s a proper lady, and don’t you forget it, young Ted!” he concluded, rounding suddenly on his grandson with such ferocity that the hapless youth dropped his knife. “If you was to behave disrespectful to her, I’d lay your back open!”