Then it was explained to the stranger who Mrs. Swayne was. “Mr. Swayne built them cottages,” said Betty; “they’re his own, and as nice a well-furnished house and as comfortable; and his good lady ain’t one of them that wastes or wants. She has a lodger in the front parlor, and keeps ’em as nice as it’s a picture to see, and as respected in the whole parish--”
“Don’t you go on a-praising me before my face,” said Mrs. Swayne, modestly; “we’re folks as are neither rich nor poor, and can give our neighbors a hand by times and times. You’re a stranger, as is well seen, or you wouldn’t be cur’ous about Swayne and me.”
“I’m a stranger sure enough,” said Nancy. “We’re poor relations, that’s what we are; and the likes of us is not wanted here. If I was them I’d take more notice o’ my own flesh and blood, and one as can serve them yet, like _she_ can. It ain’t what you call a desirable place,” said Nancy; “she’s awful aggravating sometimes, like the most of old women; but all the same they’re her children’s children, and I’d allays let that count if it was me.”
“That’s old Mrs. Fennell?” said Betty; “she never was here as I can think on but once. Miss Sara isn’t one that can stand being interfered with; but they sends her an immensity of game, and vegetables, and flowers, and such things, and I’ve always heard as the master gives her an allowance. I don’t see as she’s any reason to complain.”
“A woman as knows as much as she does,” said Nancy, solemnly, “she ought to be better looked to;” and then she changed her tone. “I’ve walked all this long way, and I have got to get back again, and she’ll be as cross as cross if I’m long. And I don’t suppose there’s no omnibus or nothing going my way. If it was but a cart--”
“There’s a carrier’s cart,” said Betty; “but Mrs. Swayne could tell you most about that. Her two lodgers come in it, and Mrs. Preston, that time she had something to do in Masterton--”
“Who is Mrs. Preston?” said Nancy quickly. “I’ve heard o’ that name. And I’ve heard in Masterton of some one as came in the carrier’s cart. If I might make so bold, who is she? Is she your lodger? I once knew some folks of that name in my young days, and I’d like to hear.”
“Oh yes, she’s my lodger,” said Mrs. Swayne, “and a terrible trouble to me. I’d just been a-grumbling to Betty when you came in. She and that poor thing Pamela, they lay on my mind so heavy, I don’t know what to do. You might give old Mrs. Fennell a hint to speak to Mr. John. He’s a-running after that girl, he is, till it turns one sick; and a poor silly woman of a mother as won’t see no harm in it. If the old lady was to hear in a sort of a side way like, she might give Mr. John a talking to. Not as I have much confidence in his mending. Gentlemen never does.”