Mrs. Jorrocks looked longingly with her bleared eyes at the few shillings which the girl held out to her, but she shook her head.  “I dursn’t do it,” she said.  “It’s as much as my place is worth.”

“Then I shall walk down to Bedsworth myself,” said Kate angrily.  “I have no doubt that the people in the post office will let me sit there and write it.”

The old hag laughed hoarsely to herself until the scraggy sinews of her withered neck stood out like whipcord.  She was still chuckling and coughing when the merchant came back into the room.

“What then?” he asked sternly, looking from one to the other.  He was himself constitutionally averse to merriment, and he was irritated by it in others.  “Why are you laughing, Mrs. Jorrocks?”

“I was a-laughing at her,” the woman wheezed, pointing with tremulous fingers.  “She was askin’ me for paper, and sayin’ as she would go and write a letter at the Bedsworth Post Office.”

“You must understand once for all,” Girdlestone roared, turning savagely upon the girl, “that you are cut off entirely from the outer world.  I shall give you no loophole which you may utilize to continue your intimacy with undesirable people.  I have given orders that you should not be provided with either paper or ink.”

Poor Kate’s last hope seemed to be fading away.  Her heart sank within her, but she kept a brave face, for she did not wish him to see how his words had stricken her.  She had a desperate plan in her head, which would be more likely to be successful could she but put him off his guard.

She spent the morning in her own little room.  She had been provided with a ponderous brown Bible, out of which the fly leaves had been carefully cut, and this she read, though her thoughts often wandered away from the sacred pages.  About one o’clock she heard the clatter of hoofs and the sound of wheels on the drive.  Going down, she found that it was a cart which had come from Bedsworth with furniture.  There were carpets, a chest of drawers, tables, and several other articles, which the driver proceeded to carry upstairs, helped by John Girdlestone.  The old woman was in the upper room.  It seemed to Kate that she might never again have such an opportunity of carrying out the resolve which she had formed.  She put on her bonnet, and began to stroll listlessly about in front of the door, picking a few straggling leaves from the neglected lawn.  Gradually she sauntered away in this manner to the head of the avenue, and then, taking one swift timid glance around, she slipped in among the trees, and made the best of her way, half walking, half running, down the dark winding drive.