And old John Selby was quite about again. Miss's stuff had done him a
world of good, to say nothing of Mr. Dacre's generous old wine.
'And is this your second son, Dame Rishworth?' 'No; that bees our
fourth,' said the old woman, maternally arranging the urchin's thin,
white, flat, straight, unmanageable hair. 'We are thinking what to do
with him, Miss. He wants to go out to service. Since Jem Eustace got on
so, I don't know what the matter is with the lads; but I think we shall
have none of them in the fields soon. He can clean knives and shoes very
well, Miss. Mr. Bradford, at the Castle, was saying t'other day that
perhaps he might want a young hand. You haven't heard anything, I
suppose, Miss?'
'And what is your name, sir?' asked Miss Dacre. 'Bobby Rishworth, Miss!'
'Well, Bobby, I must consult Mr. Bradford.' 'We be in great trouble,
Miss,' said the next cottager. 'We be in great trouble. Tom, poor Tom,
was out last night, and the keepers will give him up. The good man has
done all he can, we have all done all we can, Miss, and you see how it
ends. He is the first of the family that ever went out.
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