Why, she’s no more than three years older than I am, Sarah, and such a featherhead! And now she has miscarried of a fourth child, and Mrs Grittleton set it at my door! And, I must say, I thought it pretty poor-spirited of Mr Astley not to have turned her out of the house, because he told me she never came to stay with them but to make trouble, and as for young Grittleton—” She broke off, with a gurgle of laughter. The things he said about him, Sarah! I couldn’t but laugh! And the odious creature’s intentions were most honourable! He made me an offer! That, of course, was what threw Mrs Grittleton into such a pelter, for, try as I would, I couldn’t make her believe that nothing could prevail upon me to marry her detestable son. She ranted like an archwife, and scolded poor Mrs Astley into such a pucker that she fell into strong convulsions, and miscarried. So Mr Astley saw nothing for it but to send me away. I own, he behaved very handsomely, for he paid me for the whole year—not merely the six months I had truly earned!—and sent me to the coach-stop in his own carriage; but, considering he told me himself that he held me blameless, I can’t but think it was very poor-spirited of him not to have sent Mrs Grittleton packing instead of me!”

“Poor-spirited?” ejaculated Mrs Nidd, removing the lid from one of the pots on the fire, and viciously stirring its contents, “ay, and so you may, and so they are—all of ’em! Anything for peace and quiet, that’s men!” She replaced the lid on the pot, and turned to look down at her nursling, trouble in her face. “I’m not saying you should have accepted that young Grittleton’s offer, but—oh, dearie me, what’s to be done now?”

“I must find myself another situation, of course,” responded Kate. “I mean to visit the registry office this very day. Only—” She paused, eyeing Mrs Nidd uncertainly.

“Only what?” demanded that lady.