`Why, wheer was yer Dad?'
The little girl clung to her grandmother's skirts and simpered.
`He was there,' said Connie, `but he'd shot a poaching cat, and the
child was upset.'
`Oh, you'd no right t'ave bothered, Lady Chatterley, I'm sure! I'm sure
it was very good of you, but you shouldn't 'ave bothered. Why, did ever you
see!'---and the old woman turned to the child: `Fancy Lady Chatterley takin'
all that trouble over yer! Why, she shouldn't 'ave bothered!'
`It was no bother, just a walk,' said Connie smiling.
`Why, I'm sure 'twas very kind of you, I must say! So she was crying! I
knew there'd be something afore they got far. She's frightened of 'im,
that's wheer it is. Seems 'e's almost a stranger to 'er, fair a stranger,
and I don't think they're two as'd hit it off very easy. He's got funny
ways.'
Connie didn't know what to say.
`Look, Gran!' simpered the child.
The old woman looked down at the sixpence in the little girl's hand.
`An' sixpence an' all! Oh, your Ladyship, you shouldn't, you shouldn't.
Why, isn't Lady Chatterley good to yer! My word, you're a lucky girl this
morning!'
She pronounced the name, as all the people did: Chat'ley.---Isn't Lady
Chat'ley good to you!'---Connie couldn't help looking at the old woman's
nose, and the latter again vaguely wiped her face with the back of her
wrist, but missed the smudge.
Connie was moving away `Well, thank you ever so much, Lady Chat'ley,
I'm sure. Say thank you to Lady Chat'ley!'---this last to the child.
`Thank you,' piped the child.
`There's a dear!' laughed Connie, and she moved away, saying `Good
morning', heartily relieved to get away from the contact.
Curious, she thought, that that thin, proud man should have that
little, sharp woman for a mother!
And the old woman, as soon as Connie had gone, rushed to the bit of
mirror in the scullery, and looked at her face. Seeing it, she stamped her
foot with impatience. `Of course she had to catch me in my coarse apron, and
a dirty face! Nice idea she'd get of me!'
Connie went slowly home to Wragby. `Home!'...it was a warm word to use
for that great, weary warren. But then it was a word that had had its day.
It was somehow cancelled. All the great words, it seemed to Connie, were
cancelled for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father,
husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now, and dying from
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