“You’d have come round here straight! For goodness’ sake, dearie, what’s happened to bring you back in such a bang, with never a word to me, so as I could have met you?”

“There was no time,” explained Kate. “Besides, I couldn’t have got a frank, and why should you be obliged to pay for a letter when you were going to see me immediately? I’ve been turned off, Sarah.”

“Turned off?” repeated Mrs Nidd terribly.

“Yes, but not without a character, said Kate, with an irrepressible twinkle. “At least, Mrs Grittleton wouldn’t have given me one, but Mr Astley assured me his wife would, and was very sorry to lose me. Which, indeed, I expect she is, because we dealt very well together, and I did make the children mind me.”

“And who, pray, may this Mrs Grittleton be?” said Mrs Nidd, pausing in the act of measuring tea-leaves into a large pot.

“A griffin,” replied Kate.

“I’d griffin her! But who is she, love? And what had she to say to anything?”

“She is Mrs Astley’s mother. She had everything to say, I promise you! She took me in dislike the moment she saw me. She said I was too young to have charge of her grandchildren, and she told poor Mrs Astley that I had insinuating manners. Oh, yes, and that I was sly, and designing! That was because her detestable son tried to kiss me, and I slapped his face. Though why she should have thought that was being designing I can’t conceive! Oh, Sarah, you never saw such a moon-calf! He is as silly as his sister, and not by half as agreeable! She may be a wet-goose—which, indeed, she is!—but the most amiable creature! And as for my being too young to have the charge of the children, she was a great deal too young to have three children!