’Ay, quite; and rich enough to be ten fathers.  They say he’s so rich that he has business in every bank, and measures his money in half-pint cups.’

’Lord, I wish it was me, don’t I wish ‘twas me!’ said the scullery-maid.

’Yes, ‘twas as neat a bit of stitching as ever I heard of,’ continued the clerk, with a fixed eye, as if he were watching the process from a distance.  ’Not a soul knew anything about it, and my wife is the only one in our parish who knows it yet.  Miss Hinton came back from the wedden, went to Mr. Manston, puffed herself out large, and said she was Mrs. Bollens, but that if he wished, she had no objection to keep on the house till the regular time of giving notice had expired, or till he could get another tenant.’

‘Just like her independence,’ said the cook.

’Well, independent or no, she’s Mrs. Bollens now.  Ah, I shall never forget once when I went by Farmer Bollens’s garden—­years ago now —­years, when he was taking up ashleaf taties.  A merry feller I was at that time, a very merry feller—­for ’twas before I took holy orders, and it didn’t prick my conscience as ’twould now.  “Farmer,” says I, “little taties seem to turn out small this year, don’t em?” “O no, Crickett,” says he, “some be fair-sized.”  He’s a dull man —­Farmer Bollens is—­he always was.  However, that’s neither here nor there; he’s a-married to a sharp woman, and if I don’t make a mistake she’ll bring him a pretty good family, gie her time.’

‘Well, it don’t matter; there’s a Providence in it,’ said the scullery-maid.  ’God A’mighty always sends bread as well as children.’

’But ’tis the bread to one house and the children to another very often.  However, I think I can see my lady Hinton’s reason for chosen yesterday to sickness-or-health-it.  Your young miss, and that one, had crossed one another’s path in regard to young Master Springrove; and I expect that when Addy Hinton found Miss Graye wasn’t caren to have en, she thought she’d be beforehand with her old enemy in marrying somebody else too.  That’s maids’ logic all over, and maids’ malice likewise.’

Women who are bad enough to divide against themselves under a man’s partiality are good enough to instantly unite in a common cause against his attack.  ‘I’ll just tell you one thing then,’ said the cook, shaking out her words to the time of a whisk she was beating eggs with.  ‘Whatever maids’ logic is and maids’ malice too, if Cytherea Graye even now knows that young Springrove is free again, she’ll fling over the steward as soon as look at him.’

‘No, no:  not now,’ the coachman broke in like a moderator.  ’There’s honour in that maid, if ever there was in one.  No Miss Hinton’s tricks in her.  She’ll stick to Manston.’

‘Pifh!’

’Don’t let a word be said till the wedden is over, for Heaven’s sake,’ the clerk continued.  ’Miss Aldclyffe would fairly hang and quarter me, if my news broke off that there wedden at a last minute like this.’