“Please, my lady,” she cried, with a courtesy, “she have done nothing. She’s dreadful taking, that’s all. When she gets talking, you could just stop there forever. It’s a great waste of time when you’ve a deal to do, but it ain’t no fault of hers. She makes you laugh, and she makes you cry, and though she don’t give herself no airs, she can talk as nice as any of the quality, as if she was every bit a lady--and the next moment the same as mother or like me.”
“She must be very clever,” said Lady Penton. “Is she pretty, too?”
“I don’t know as I should have taken no notice of her looks but for other folks a-talking of them,” said Martha, “I don’t know as I sees her any different from other folks; but as for good nature and making things pleasant, there ain’t none like her high nor low.”
“And what is she doing here? and why did your father come to Sir Edward about her?” said Lady Penton, in her magisterial calm.
“Oh, my lady, you’ll not be pleased; I’d rather not tell you. When father does notice a thing he’s _that_ suspicious! I’d rather not--oh, I’d rather not!”
“This is nonsense, Martha--you had much better tell me. What has this girl been doing that Sir Edward ought to know?”
Martha twisted her fingers together in overwhelming embarrassment.
“Oh, my lady, don’t ask me! I could not bear to tell you--and you’d not be pleased.”
“What have I to do with it, my good girl?” said Walter’s mother, as steadily as if she had been made of marble; and then she added, “but after hearing so much I must know. You had better tell me. I may perhaps be of use to her, poor thing!”
“Oh, my lady, Sir Edward’ll tell you. Oh, what have I got to do pushing into it! Oh, if you’re that kind, my lady, and not angry!” Here Martha paused, and took a supreme resolution. “It’s all father’s doing, though I say it as shouldn’t. He thinks as Mr. Walter--oh, my lady, Mr. Walter’s like your ladyship--he’s that civil and kind!”
“I am glad you think so, Martha. Gentlemen are very different from us; they don’t think of things that come into every woman’s mind. I shall be angry, indeed, if you keep me standing asking questions. What has all this to do with my son?”
“It’s all father’s ways of thinking. There’s nothing in it--not a thing to talk about. It’s just this--as Mr. Walter has seen Emmy a time or two at the cottage door. And he’s said a civil word. And Emmy is one as likes to talk to gentlefolks, being more like them in herself than the likes of us. And so--and so--father’s taken things into his head--as he did, my lady,” cried Martha, with a blush and a sudden change of tone, “about John Baker and me.”