“Now, that,” said Mr Nidd, “is something like! What Miss Kate wants is a husband!”

“You needn’t think I don’t know that, Father! If this young Grittleton had taken her fancy I’d have thanked God on my knees, for all she’d have been demeaning herself, she being above the Astleys’ cut, but she didn’t. A moon-calf is what she says he is.”

“Well, such ain’t a particle of use to her,” said Mr Nidd, abandoning interest in young Grittleton. “What is she meaning to do now, Sarey?”

“Hire herself out as a common abigail!” replied Sarah bitterly.

At this disclosure, the younger Mr Nidd looked very much shocked, and said that she must not be allowed to do it. He added diffidently: “If she’d lower herself to live here, with you to take care of her, we’d be proud to have her, wouldn’t we Father?”

“It’s no matter what we’d be: it wouldn’t fit!” responded Mr Nidd unhesitatingly. “If you’d ever had any wits I’d be wondering where they’d gone a-begging! How I come to have a son that was no better than a chawbacon is something I’ll never know, not if I live to be a hundred!”

“No! Nor I’ll never know how you came to have a son with such a good heart!” snapped Sarah, rising instantly to Joe’s defence. A mumbled remonstrance from him caused her to pat his hand, and to say in a mollified tone: “I’m sure I don’t want to offend you, Father, but I won’t have you miscalling Joe. Not but what he’s right, Joe: it wouldn’t fit! But how to stop her doing what’s beneath her I don’t know! Perhaps your father does, so long-headed as he is!”

“You can lay your life I do!” said Mr Nidd, a gleam of triumph in his eye. To think I’ve a longer head than you, Sarey! What Miss Kate’s got to have is a home with her own kin.”