“Why,” he began, in the broad slow dialect. “Your Ladyship’s as welcome as Christmas ter th’ hut an’ th’ key an’ iverythink as is. On’y this time o’ th’ year ther’s bods ter set, an’ Ah’ve got ter be potterin’ abaht a good bit, seein’ after ’em, an’ a’. Winter time Ah ned ’ardly come nigh th’ pleece. But what wi’ Spring, an’ Sir Clifford wantin’ ter start th’ pheasants.⁠ ⁠… An’ your Ladyship’d non want me tinkerin’ around an’ about when she was ’ere, all th’ time.”

She listened with a dim kind of amazement.

“Why should I mind your being here?” she asked.

He looked at her curiously.

“T’ nuisance on me!” he said briefly, but significantly. She flushed. “Very well!” she said finally. “I won’t trouble you. But I don’t think I should have minded at all sitting and seeing you look after the birds. I should have liked it. But since you think it interferes with you, I won’t disturb you, don’t be afraid. You are Sir Clifford’s keeper, not mine.”