“Liz,” said I, “I have come a long way in the night and through the snow to inquire after a lady—­”

“Who has been here, you know,” Mr. Bucket struck in, addressing the whole group with a composed propitiatory face; “that’s the lady the young lady means.  The lady that was here last night, you know.”

“And who told you as there was anybody here?” inquired Jenny’s husband, who had made a surly stop in his eating to listen and now measured him with his eye.

“A person of the name of Michael Jackson, with a blue welveteen waistcoat with a double row of mother of pearl buttons,” Mr. Bucket immediately answered.

“He had as good mind his own business, whoever he is,” growled the man.

“He’s out of employment, I believe,” said Mr. Bucket apologetically for Michael Jackson, “and so gets talking.”

The woman had not resumed her chair, but stood faltering with her hand upon its broken back, looking at me.  I thought she would have spoken to me privately if she had dared.  She was still in this attitude of uncertainty when her husband, who was eating with a lump of bread and fat in one hand and his clasp-knife in the other, struck the handle of his knife violently on the table and told her with an oath to mind her own business at any rate and sit down.

“I should like to have seen Jenny very much,” said I, “for I am sure she would have told me all she could about this lady, whom I am very anxious indeed—­you cannot think how anxious—­to overtake.  Will Jenny be here soon?  Where is she?”

The woman had a great desire to answer, but the man, with another oath, openly kicked at her foot with his heavy boot.  He left it to Jenny’s husband to say what he chose, and after a dogged silence the latter turned his shaggy head towards me.

“I’m not partial to gentlefolks coming into my place, as you’ve heerd me say afore now, I think, miss.  I let their places be, and it’s curious they can’t let my place be.  There’d be a pretty shine made if I was to go a-wisitin them, I think.  Howsoever, I don’t so much complain of you as of some others, and I’m agreeable to make you a civil answer, though I give notice that I’m not a-going to be drawed like a badger.  Will Jenny be here soon?  No she won’t.  Where is she?  She’s gone up to Lunnun.”

“Did she go last night?” I asked.

“Did she go last night?  Ah!  She went last night,” he answered with a sulky jerk of his head.

“But was she here when the lady came?  And what did the lady say to her?  And where is the lady gone?  I beg and pray you to be so kind as to tell me,” said I, “for I am in great distress to know.”

“If my master would let me speak, and not say a word of harm—­” the woman timidly began.

“Your master,” said her husband, muttering an imprecation with slow emphasis, “will break your neck if you meddle with wot don’t concern you.”