“Your looker?—­No, Miss Joanna.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I don’t know what you mean, miss—­I’ve never had naeun to do wud Dick Socknersh if it’s him you’re thinking of.”

“Not Socknersh, but I ... who is the man, then?”

“Well, it aeun’t no secret from anyone but you, Miss Joanna, so I doean’t mind telling you as my boy is Peter Relf, their looker at Old Honeychild.  We’ve bin walking out ever sinst the day he came after your plaeace as looker here, and we’d be married now if he hadn’t his old mother and dad to keep, and got into some nasty silly trouble wud them fellers wot put money on horses they’ve never seen....  He doean’t get more’n fifteen bob a week at Honeychild, and he can’t keep the old folk on less than eight, them being always filling themselves with doctor’s stuff....”

Joanna was not listening to her—­she sat amazed and pale, her heart beating in heavy thuds of relief.  Mixed with her happiness there was a little shame, for she saw that the mistake had arisen from her putting herself too realistically in Martha’s place.  Why had she jumped to the conclusion that the girl’s lover was Socknersh?  It is true that he had danced with her very often at the Christmas party nine months ago, and once since then she had scolded him for telling the chicken-woman some news he ought first to have told the mistress ... but that was very little in the way of evidence, and Martha had always been running after boys....

Seeing her still silent, Martha began to cry again.

“I’m sure I’m unaccountable sorry, Miss Joanna, and what’s to become of me I don’t know, nuther.  Maybe I’m a bad lot, but it’s hard to love and wait on and on for the wedding ... and Pete was sure as he could do summat wud a horse running in the Derby race, and at the Woolpack they told him it wur bound to win....  I’ve always kept straight up till this, Miss Joanna, and a virtuous virgin for all I do grin and laugh a lot ... and many’s the temptation I’ve had, being a lone gal wudout father or mother ...”

“Keep quiet, Martha, and have done with so much excuse.  You’ve been a very wicked gal, and you shouldn’t ought to think any different of yourself.  But maybe I was too quick, saying you were to go at once.  You can finish your month, seeing as you were monthly hired.”

“Thank you, Miss Joanna, that’ll give me time to look around for another plaeace; though—­” bursting out crying again—­“I don’t see what good that’ll do me, seeing as my time’s three months from hence.”

A great softness had come over Joanna.  There were tears in her eyes as she looked at Martha, but they were no longer tears of anger.

“Don’t cry, child,” she said kindly, “I’ll see you don’t come to want.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Joanna ... it’s middling good of you, and Pete will repay you when we’re married and have saeaved some tin.”