e truth in a court of justice, if
you'll not tell it me quietly and civilly here. Now, the best thing
you can do is quietly to tell me who the fellow is. Look here! a man
comes to my house; asks for you; you take him upstairs; a valuable
brooch is missing next day; we know that you, and Mary, and cook, are
honest; but you refuse to tell us who the man is. Indeed, you've told
me one lie already about him, saying no one was here last night. Now,
I just put it to you, what do you think a policeman would say to this,
or a magistrate? A magistrate would soon make you tell the truth, my
good woman.'

'There's never the creature born that should get it out of me,' said
Norah. 'Not unless I choose to tell.'

'I've a great mind to see,' said Mr Openshaw, growing angry at the
defiance. Then, checking himself, he thought before he spoke again:

'Norah, for your missus' sake I don't want to go to extremities. Be a
sensible woman, if you can. It's no great disgrace, after all, to have
been taken in. I ask you once more--as a friend--who was this man that
you let into my house last night?'

No answer. He repeated the question in an impatient tone. Still no
answer. Norah's lips were set in determination not to speak.

'Then there is but one thing to be done. I shall send for a
policeman.'

'You will not,' said Norah, starting forward. 'You shall not, sir!
No policeman shall touch me. I know nothing of the brooch, but I know
this: ever since I was four-and-twenty, I have thought more of your
wife than of myself: ever since I saw her, a poor motherless girl, put
upon in her uncle's house, I have thought more of serving her than
of serving myself! I have cared for her and her child, as nobody
ever cared for me. I don't cast blame on you, sir, but I say it's ill
giving up one's life to anyone; for, at the end, they will turn round
upon you, and forsake you. Why does not my missus come herself to
suspect me? Maybe, she is gone for the police? But I don't stay here,
either for police, or magistrate, or master. You're an unlucky lot.
I believe there's a curse on you. I'll leave you this very day. Yes!
I'll leave that poor Ailsie, too. I will! No good ever will come to
you!'

Mr Openshaw was utterly astonished at this speech; most of which was
completely unintelligible to him, as may easily be supposed. Before he
could make up his mind what to say, or what to do, Norah had left
the room. I do not think he had ever really intended to