“ What do you people want? There is nothing for you here. You have no business on the drive at all. Simpson, drive them away and let no more of them through the gate.”
The servants had to obey her. And she would stand watching with an eye like the eagle’s, whilst the groom in clumsy confusion drove the lugubrious persons down the drive, as if they were rusty fowls, scuttling before him.
But they learned to know, from the lodge-keeper, when Mrs Crich was away, and they timed their visits. How many times, in the first years, would Crowther knock softly at the door: “Person to see you, sir.”
“ What name?”
“ Grocock, sir.”
“ What do they want?” The question was half impatient, half gratified. He liked hearing appeals to his charity.
“ About a child, sir.”
“ Show them into th
