Fairies -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Edward VII, 1901-1910 -- Fiction; Siblings -- Fiction; Wishes -- Fiction
'Martha,' she said, 'has any stranger been into MY room since I've
been away? Now, answer me truthfully.'
'No, mum,' answered Martha; 'leastways, what I mean to say -'
She stopped.
'Come,' said her mistress kindly; 'I see someone has. You must
tell me at once. Don't be frightened. I'm sure you haven't done
anything wrong.'
Martha burst into heavy sobs.
'I was a-goin' to give you warning this very day, mum, to leave at
the end of my month, so I was - on account of me being going to
make a respectable young man happy. A gamekeeper he is by trade,
mum - and I wouldn't deceive you - of the name of Beale. And it's
as true as I stand here, it Was your coming home in such a hurry,
and no warning given, out of the kindness of his heart it was, as
he says, "Martha, my beauty," he says - which I ain't and never
was, but you know how them men will go on - "I can't see you
a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping 'and; which mine is
a strong arm and it's yours, Martha, my dear," says he. And so he
helped me a-cleanin' of the windows, but outside, mum, the whole
time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's the
gospel truth.'
'Were you with him the whole time?' asked her mistress.
'Him outside and me in, I was,' said Martha; 'except for fetching
up a fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza 'd hidden
away behind the mangle.'
'That will do,' said the children's mother. 'I am not pleased with
you, Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for
something.'
When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother.
'Oh, mummy darling,' cried Anthea, 'it isn't Beale's fault, it
isn't really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and
as honest as the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! oh,
don't, don't, don't!'
It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery
through that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to
tell the truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in
the hair and the shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they
could not do it.
'Is there a cart hereabouts?' asked mother feverishly. 'A trap of
any sort? I must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at
once.'
All the children sobbed, 'There's a cart at the farm, but, oh,
don't go! - don't go! - oh, don't go! - wait till daddy comes
home!'
Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on
a thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather
like Anthea in this respect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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