“Oh, no, sir.”

And Dale whispered approvingly to Mavis, saying that he liked Norah’s grit.

Then they drove home; Norah behind with the children, both of them sleeping now; and Dale and Mavis side by side in front, talking quietly as they passed beneath the dark trees and out beneath the bright stars.

XXIII

Norah was a treasure to them, and she seemed always to be improving.  She had done with school now, but she evinced a commendable yearning for further cultivation, buying copy-books with her pocket-money, imitating Dale’s clerkly hand; so that already at a pinch she was able to help in the office work.  But proud as she felt when permitted to copy out accounts or circular letters, her pride did not spoil her for household labor.  In fact she worked so stanchly at scrubbing, scouring, and so forth, as well as looking after the children, that for a long while Mavis did not detect how poor old Mrs. Goudie was failing, and leaving nearly all her duties to be performed by others.  Moreover, in spite of having issued from the untidy hovel of those rammucky Veales, she showed an innate love of cleanliness and order, assiduously brushing her black hair and scrupulously washing her white skin.

Only very rarely she gave a little trouble, and then both Dale and his wife attributed this naughtiness to the Veale origin, finding the explanation of a certain wildness in that strain of gipsy blood which, as was popularly supposed, ran down her pedigree.  She disgraced herself when the circus menagerie passed the gates of Vine-Pits.  She stood firm with the rest of them watching the great painted vans go by, and the droves of horses, and the tiny ponies; but when the elephants came she broke away.  The size, the weirdness, the shuffling footsteps of these beasts made her beside herself.  A lot of ragged children with great wicked-looking hobbledehoys from the Cross Roads, were trotting after the elephants; and Norah, joining this disreputable band, trotted also.  She went all the way to Rodchurch, saw the immense tent set up on the Common, and probably crept inside to see the entertainment.  She did not return for six hours, not till after dark.

Another thing that made Mavis anxious and angry was Norah’s ineradicable love of the woods.  She never deserted work, but, if allowed any time to herself, she would go stealing off into Hadleigh Wood to pick flowers or bring back birds’ eggs for the children.  She knew perfectly well that she was to keep to the road or the field tracks, but the sylvan depths seemed to call her and she could not resist the call.

Once when Norah had been troublesome in this respect, Mavis was so angry that she threatened her with corporal punishment.

“Look here, my lass,” said Mavis, unconsciously founding herself on the manner of her husband when administering rebuke, “if you can’t obey what I tell you, I shall ask Mr. Dale to chastise you—­yes, my lass, to give you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry.”  Norah hung her head and pouted.  Then she looked up and spoke firmly.