Connie was moving away.⁠ ⁠… “Well, thank you ever so much, Lady Chat’ley, I’m sure. Say thank you to Lady Chat’ley!”⁠—this last to the child.

“Thank you,” piped the child.

“There’s a dear!” laughed Connie, and she moved away, saying “Good morning,” heartily relieved to get away from the contact. Curious, she thought, that that thin, proud man should have that little, sharp woman for a mother!

And the old woman, as soon as Connie was gone, rushed to the bit of mirror in the scullery, and looked at her face. Seeing it, she stamped her foot with impatience. “Of course she had to catch me in my coarse apron, and a dirty face! Nice idea she’d get of me!”