“No!” said Mrs Nidd, in a tone which brooked no argument. “Now, you drink your tea, and eat your nice bread-and-butter, and no more nonsense! If ever I listened to such a pack of skimble-skamble stuff!—And I don’t want to hear any more about imposing on me and Nidd, for there’s no question of that, and I take it unkindly of you to say such a thing, Miss Kate!”

Kate caught her hand, and nursed it to her cheek. “No, no, Sarah! You know better! How infamous it would be if I were to foist myself on to you! When I think of all you have to do, with old Mr Nidd living here, and all those grandsons of his to feed, and house, I feel it’s quite shameless of me to come to you even for a short visit! I couldn’t stay here for ever, dear, dearest Sarah! You must own I could not!”

“No, you couldn’t,” acknowledged Mrs Nidd. “It wouldn’t be fitting. Not but what there’s only three grandsons, and one of them lives with his ma—that’s Joe’s sister Maggie, and the most gormless creature you ever did see! Still, there’s no harm in her, and I’m bound to say she’s always ready to come and lend me a bit of help—if help you can call it! But a carrier’s yard is no place for you, dearie, and well do I know it! We’ll think of something, never you fear!”

’I have thought of something!” murmured Kate wickedly.

“No, you haven’t, Miss Kate. You’re puckered, with that nasty stage-coach, and all the uproar that was kicked up by that Mrs Brimstone, or whatever she calls herself, and you’ll feel different when I’ve got you tucked into bed, which I’m going to do the minute you’ve drunk up your tea. You’ll have your sleep out, and when you wake up you shall have your dinner in the parlour upstairs, and we’ll see what’s to be done.”