‘It’s more than just that, Miss Anne,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘All of us in the house are thinking of what is likely to happen, and Mr. Saymore, he says he will never take another place after having been so long here. And he has a good bit of money laid by, Miss Anne,’ said Keziah, not without pride. ‘And Mr. Goodman, of the “Black Bull” at Hunston, he’s dead. That’s where we’re thinking of settling. I know how to keep the books and make up the bills, and mother she would be in the kitchen, and such a fine opening for the boys. I don’t know what I shouldn’t deserve if I were to set up myself against all that. And it isn’t myself neither,’ said Keziah. ‘I should be ashamed to make a fuss for me. I have always told you that, Miss Anne. I hope I’m not one as would go against my duty. It’s Jim I’ve always thought upon. Men folks are more wilful than women. They are more used to get their own way. If he was to go to the bad, Miss Anne, and me the cause of it----’ Here Keziah broke down, and wept without any further attempt to restrain her tears. ‘I don’t understand you,’ cried Anne impetuously. ‘You pretend to be sorry for him, and this is how you treat him. But leave Jim to take care of himself, Keziah. Let us think of you. This is what I call going to the bad. Poor Jim might take to drinking, perhaps, and ruin himself--but I don’t think that is so much going to the bad as to love one man and marry another. That is the worst of sin,’ said the girl, with cheeks and eyes both flaming. ‘It is treachery, it is falsehood, it is dishonour, to you and to everyone concerned.’ Poor little Keziah quailed before this outburst. She shrank back with a look of pain as if she feared her mistress’s wrath would take some tangible form. She cried bitterly, sobbing aloud, ‘You’ve got no call to be angry, Miss Anne. You didn’t ought to be angry, Miss Anne. I’m a-going to do my duty; it’s nothing but my duty as I’m going to do!’