oing things, and one did so deprecate women like this
Kirsteen--what an impossibly Celtic name!--putting her finger into any
pie that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of
anything done that sort of way. If Felix had any influence with Tod it
would be a mercy to use it in getting those poor young creatures away
from home, to mix a little with people who took a sane view of things.
She would like very much to get them over to Becket, but with their
notions it was doubtful whether they had evening clothes! She had, of
course, never forgotten that naked mite in the tub of sunlight, nor the
poor baby with its bees and its rough linen. Felix replied
deferentially--he was invariably polite, and only just ironic enough, in
the houses of others--that he had the very greatest respect for Tod, and
that there could be nothing very wrong with the woman to whom Tod was so
devoted. As for the children, his own young people would get at them and
learn all about what was going on in a way that no fogey like himself
could. In regard to the land question, there were, of course, many sides
to that, and he, for one, would not be at all sorry to observe yet
another. After all, the Tods were in real contact with the laborers, and
that was the great thing. It would be very interesting.

Yes, Clara quite saw all that, but--and here she sank her voice so that
there was hardly any left--as Felix was going over there, she really must
put him au courant with the heart of this matter. Lady Malloring had
told her the whole story. It appeared there were two cases: A family
called Gaunt, an old man, and his son, who had two daughters--one of
them, Alice, quite a nice girl, was kitchen-maid here at Becket, but the
other sister--Wilmet--well! she was one of those girls that, as Felix
must know, were always to be found in every village. She was leading the
young men astray, and Lady Malloring had put her foot down, telling her
bailiff to tell the farmer for whom Gaunt worked that he and his family
must go, unless they sent the girl away somewhere. That was one case.
And the other was of a laborer called Tryst, who wanted to marry his
deceased wife's sister. Of course, whether Mildred Malloring was not
rather too churchy and puritanical--now that a deceased wife's sister was
legal--Clara did not want to say; but she was undoubtedly within her
rights if she thought it for the good of the village. This man, Tryst,
was a good