“Why, I’m sure t’was very kind of you, I must say! So she was crying! I knew there’d be something afore they got far. She’s frightened of ’im, that’s wheer it is. Seems ’e’s almost a stranger to ’er, fair a stranger, and I don’t think they’re two as’d hit it off very easy. He’s got funny ways.”

Connie didn’t know what to say.

“Look, Gran!” simpered the child.

The old woman looked down at the sixpence in the little girl’s hand.

“An’ sixpence an’ all! Oh, your Ladyship, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t. Why, isn’t Lady Chatterley good to yer! My word, you’re a lucky girl this morning!”

She pronounced the name, as all the people did: Chat’ley.⁠—“Isn’t Lady Chat’ley good to you!”⁠—Connie couldn’t help looking at the old woman’s nose, and the latter again vaguely wiped her face with the back of her wrist, but missed the smudge.