"Me and Robert ha' been talking, and he ses nothing should be took away avore Miss Sophy dies."
"That's what my dear missus said. Not me, nor you, nor Mr. George, wur to touch anything till Miss Sophy had been put away," agreed Kezia.
"Didn't Mr. George sell part o' the cloam?" asked Bessie.
"Well, Bess, I did give 'en a pair of old vases. I know I ought not to ha' done it, but we've got plenty o' cloam, and I wanted the poor fellow to have something, him being a relation."
"What us wants to think about is this," Bessie continued, "me and you ain't agoing to quarrel. Mrs. Drake made a lot of mistakes in her lifetime, poor thing, and 'tis vor us to make the best of 'em."
"I'm sure I put in a good word vor you many a time," declared Kezia.
"I used to say to missus, 'Never mind about me, but do ye leave Mr. George and Bessie something. I don't care about myself,' I said."
"When us come back from Miss Sophy's funeral, us will divide up the things. First I'll take something."
"You'm the eldest. You can take first," said the generous Bessie. Then she inclined her head towards the door and whispered, "Ain't that someone in the hall?"
"'Tis only Miss Nellie," said Kezia. "There's a drop o' cocoa left in the saucepan, Bess."
"I'm sorry us had words today, Kezia," said Bessie, as she took the drop.
"Don't ye say anything more about it. I'm sure the dear missus would walk if she fancied we weren't friendly. But I do wish she hadn't got so forgetful like."
"That ain't Nellie!" cried Bessie, listening again.
"Sounds as if Miss Sophy had got out of bed and fallen down."
"'Twas a bump vor certain. I'm agoing to see," said Bessie, opening the kitchen door.
She advanced along the passage, but was back in a moment.
"The hall door's wide open--and I saw a light from the parlour."
"There's a man in the house!" screamed Kezia. "Don't ye go out, Bess!"
"Who's there?" called the valorous Bessie, advancing again to the passage. Then she shrunk back, crying:
"Here's a young man--and here's an old 'un. They're carrying something. Don't ye go out, Kezia."
"Oh, my dear, I ain't agoing to," faltered Kezia, retiring into the far corner of the scullery.
"They'm running!" Bessie muttered. "One wur youngish, and t'other wur oldish. They ha' gone now. I heard 'em shut the gate."