‘Please, mum, the men be wishin’ to speak a few words with ’ee.’ ‘Very well,’ said Rosalie, ‘I will go out to them.’ On reaching the threshold of the outer door she paused, looking round on the group, and waiting for them to take the initiative. Job was, as before, the first to speak. ‘I be come to tell ’ee, Mrs. Fiander, as I wish to notice ye for Saturday week. These here changes bain’t to my likin’, and the mistress bain’t to my likin’; so ye’ll please to suit yourself by that time, mum.’ He spoke gruffly, and eyed her impertinently, but this time she did not flinch. ‘Very well, Job,’ she said; ‘I have no doubt I shall be able to do so without any difficulty.’ Abel was the next to advance, but Rosalie waved him aside. ‘As it has already been settled that you are to leave,’ she remarked, ‘you can have nothing to say to me. Step back. Now who comes next?’ James Bundy, it seemed, came next; he approached a little hesitatingly, looking hard at his mistress. ‘Please, mum, I wish to leave on Saturday week.’ ‘Quite right,’ returned Rosalie with great unconcern. ‘Next!’ James Bundy stepped back and Robert Cross stepped forward, smiling obsequiously. ‘I’m sure, mum, it do go agen me terrible to make sich a break as this here, but still, d’ ye see, we can’t nohow put up with—’ ‘You need not take the trouble to explain—you wish to leave on Saturday week with the others, I suppose?’ ‘’Ees—leastways—’ ‘That will do,’ said Rosalie. ‘Now, Sam Belbin, you wish to leave too?’ Sam Belbin made a step forward and glanced round appealingly. By this time his companions were looking very blank. The sudden assault by which they had expected to frighten their mistress into capitulation had apparently failed. Their respective attitudes had changed; she was calm and unmoved, and they were beginning to be seriously uneasy. Good places and regular pay were not to be picked up every day in that part of the world. ‘Well, Sam?’ said Rosalie kindly, as though to help him out. Sam was the chief of the three ‘dairy chaps,’ a good-looking young fellow of about four-and-twenty, with a dark, good-humoured countenance and a certain jaunty air. As he now advanced a smile flashed suddenly over his face, his white teeth gleaming out pleasantly. ‘Mum,’ he said. ‘Mum—Mrs. Fiander—’ She smiled too. ‘Well, Sam, what have _you_ got to say? The usual thing, I suppose?’ ‘No, mum—not at all, mum. I—wish to say as I haven’t got no fault to find at all, mum. I’ll come in better time to-morrow morn, an’ ye’ll not have to speak to me agen, mum.’ ‘_Very_ good!’ said Rosalie in a different tone. At this unexpected speech a lump came in her throat, but she choked it down. ‘Have the others got anything to say?’ she inquired. ‘Because, if so, I hope they will make haste and say it. My dinner will be getting cold.’