Death at Gallows Green Read Online Free PDF Page B

missin’—”
    â€œSheep?” Charles asked. “Whose sheep?”
    â€œJust sheep,” McGregor said vaguely. “An’ harses. Jarge Styles lost his grey, din’t he?”
    â€œThat was two years ago,” Edward said.
    â€œHappen Jarge Styles still’s lookin’ f’r it, i‘n’t he?” McGregor retorted with a snaggle-toothed grin. “Allus somethin’ gooin’ on, I say. If ye don’t wanter know, don’t ask.”
    Edward took the coat from Charles. “We may have occasion to ask you for additional information.”
    McGregor sat down and applied himself once more to his tea. “No mind o’ me,” he said with a careless shrug. “Ye’ll git a groatsworth an’ no more.”

7
    The housekeeper must consider herself as the immediate representative of her mistress, and bring, to the management of the household, all those qualities of honesty, industry, and vigilance, in the same degree as if she were at the head of her own family. Constantly on the watch to detect any wrong-doing on the part of any of the domestics, she will oversee all that goes on in the house.
    â€” Mrs. Beeton’s Book of
Household Management, 1888
    â€œH urry along, now, Harriet,” Sarah Pratt said firmly, “an’ don’t dawdle. Time’s a-wastin’.” Tea was over, and there was the washing up to do and the kitchen to tidy and ready for breakfast. While Miss Ardleigh was gone to Melford Hall to her house-party, breakfast at Bishop’s Keep was not the formal affair it was when she was at home. But it would not do to let things slide.
    Mrs. Pratt surveyed the newly appointed hall where the servants took their meals. While she still mourned the death of the elder Miss Ardleigh, she could say without fear of contradiction that the demise of Jaggers (the younger of the two Ardleigh sisters) had occasioned a great change in the management of the household. Now that the young miss was in command, with herself, Sarah Pratt, at the helm, so to speak, the ship sailed along ever so smoothly. Her gaze lingered on the sofa that had been brought down from the attic. And ever so comfortably, too. No more sugarless tea for the servants, and that made from sweepings, the poorest to be had. No more stale buns, either, but fresh buns with raisins, and she’d been given back the drippings to sell for her profit, as was her right. No penny-pincher, was the young miss! She had begun on good bottom, as the unfortunate Mr. Pratt would have said, and she was carrying on that way.
    There was in Mrs. Pratt’s otherwise quite high esteem of her employer, however, one niggling apprehension. It was not that she was actually doing anything wrong, of course. The difficulty was that she held certain unconventional views as to the propriety of certain behaviours. She undoubtedly held these views because she was an American and not properly brought up, no disrespect intended. However the habit had arisen, Mrs. Pratt had to say that the young miss did not sufficiently concern herself with what other people thought. In particular, she did not worry about setting an example for the servants.
    And that was the pickle in which Mrs. Pratt found herself. Among other things, Miss Ardleigh was in the habit of riding a bicycle in the evening. On a Sunday evening, while everyone else was at Evensong, and with Constable Laken, alone! In the minds of villagers, (Mrs. Pratt heard this regularly from her sister Rose), Miss Ardleigh and the constable were a “friendly” couple. If Miss Ardleigh did not intend to marry the man, she was running the risk, the very definite risk, of appearing fast. And if she did intend to marry him . . . Well, while Mrs. Pratt had every respect for the constable, the match was not appropriate to Miss Ardleigh’s station. In her opinion, the young Marsden heir—Bradford Marsden—was a far better choice. Not