“Don’t listen to them.”

“Eh dear, I’ll not ’ear a word.  When anybody says anything to me I tell ‘em straight they’d oughter be ashamed of themselves, back-bitin’ and slanderin’.”

“That’s right, Nanny, you give it them in the neck.”

“If it’d only end in talk, but there’s been harm done to the innocent.  There’s Mr. and Mrs. Kimber.  Kimber, ’e’s my ’usband’s cousing.”  Nanny paused.

“What about him?”

“Well, ‘tis this way.  They’re doin’ for Miss Anne, livin’ in the house with her.  Kimber, ’e sees to the garden and Mrs. Kimber she cooks and that.  And Kimber—­that’s my ’usband’s cousin—­’e was gardener at the vicarage.  And now ’e’s lost his job along of Master Colin and Miss Anne.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, sir, ’tis the vicar.  ’E says they ‘adn’t oughter be livin’ in the house with Miss Anne, because of the talk there’s been.  So ’e says Kimber must choose between ’em.  And Kimber, ’e says ’e’d have minded what parson said if it had a bin a church matter or such like, but parson or no parson, ’e says ‘e’s his own master an’ ’e won’t have no interferin’ with him and his missus.  So he’s lost his job.”

“Poor old Kimber.  What a beastly shame.”

“Eh, ’tis a shame to be sure.”

“Never mind; I can give him a bigger job at the Manor.”

“Oh, Master Jerrold, if you would, it’d be a kindness, I’m sure.  And Kimber ’e deserves it, the way they’ve stuck to Miss Anne.”

“He does indeed.  It’s pretty decent of them.  I’ll see about that before I go.”

“Thank you, sir.  Sutton and me thought maybe you’d do something for him, else I shouldn’t have spoken.  And if there’s anything I can do for Miss Anne I’ll do it.  I’ve always looked on her as one of you.  But ’tis a pity, all the same.”

“You mustn’t say that, Nanny.  I tell you it’s all perfectly right.”

“Well, I shall never say as ’tisn’t.  No, nor think it.  You can trust me for that, Master Jerrold.”

He thought:  Poor old Nanny.  She lies like a brick.

vii

He said to himself that he would never know the truth about Anne and Colin.  If he went to them and asked them he would be no nearer knowing.  They would have to lie to him to save each other.  In any case, his mother had made it clear to him that as long as Anne had to look after Colin he couldn’t ask them.  If they were innocent their innocence must be left undisturbed.  If they were not innocent, well—­he had lost the right to know it.  Besides, he was sure, as sure as if they had told him.

He knew how it would be.  Colin’s wife would come home and she would divorce Colin and he would marry Anne.  So far as Jerrold could see, that was his brother’s only chance of happiness and sanity.

As for himself, there was nothing he could do now but clear out and leave them.

And, as he had no desire to go back to his mother and hear about Anne and Colin all over again, he went down to the Durhams’ in Yorkshire for the rest of his leave.