Then the master had married again and a good thing too for the first one wasn’t such as to waste breath over. Beautiful she had been, too beautiful they was a danger them lovely ones though what he could see in this hussy she didn’t know but then he couldn’t see, poor Master John that was what it was. There had been great goings on for the marriage, a servants’ ball and the service in church had been lovely the bridesmaids being in pink and the clergyman having a lovely voice. She had been a good mistress to her Mrs. Haye had been, only a hard word now and then from that day on. And she had made a good mother to Master John, always thinking of him and looking after him just as if he was her own boy. Then the master going to India with his regiment and leaving her with Master John to live with the grandparents, what was dead now some time, and where they didn’t treat her proper they was half-starving the poor boy. They hadn’t no illusions of his mother but it wasn’t his fault poor little mite what she was. And then their coming back after she had wrote to tell them, though the regiment did come back too, and his falling downstairs dead as mutton his heart having gone sudden like. A lovely funeral it was and a fine corpse he made lying out on the bed. In the church it was the men of the estate that carried the coffin, and the church was draped in black, and there were officers from the regiment and wreaths that the officers had sent and some from the men. Everything had been done in style. And the mistress had been splendid. Quite soon after she had said to her “Well Jennings it is up to us to bring him up” and she had said back “We will’m.”