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"My dear Madam, there is nothing to see," answered my Uncle Charles, who seemed rather perplexed. "This is not a market-day." "There'll be plenty I can see!" was my Aunt Kezia's reply; and, my Uncle Charles pulling the check-string, we alighted. My Aunt Kezia stood a moment, looking round. "You see, there is nothing to see," he observed. "Nothing to see!" she made answer.
'What nice boys they are, I thought to myself, and a feeling of shame began to come over me that I should have first got to know them when acting in a way that they, Harry at least, so evidently thought wrong and foolish. But now that, in spite of her disapproval, I felt myself safe in Kezia's care, the restraint I had put upon myself gave way more and more.
"Thank goodness, na!" said Sam, which at first I thought rather a poor compliment; but I saw the next minute that it was the answer to my first question. "Mrs Kezia's gone nowhere. Nor they dinna want ye back at Brocklebank nae mair. I'm come to ha'e a care of ye till London town. The Lord grant I win hame safe mysel' at after!" "Is the country so disturbed, Sam?" said Flora.
"Eh, no, poor soul!" was my Aunt Kezia's sorrowful reply. "My soul's beyond my saving, but Christ has it safe. And knowing that, Madam, makes one very pitiful to unsaved souls." "Upon my word, Madam!" cried my Aunt Dorothea. "You take enough upon you! `Unsaved souls, indeed! Well, I am thankful I never had the presumption to say that my soul was safe. I have a little more humility than that."
I have found a new hiding-place for my book, where I do not think Hatty will find it in a hurry. But when I sit down to write now, my Aunt Kezia's words come back to me with an awful sound. "God is looking at every word you write!" I suppose it is so: but somehow I never rightly took it in before. I hardly think I should have written some words if I had. Was that what my Aunt Kezia meant?
But I knew Kezia's cakes were much better than any I could make, so I thanked her, but said no I would rather read or sew. I had my tea all alone in the dining-room. Kezia was always so respectful about that sort of thing. Though she had been a nurse when I was only a tiny baby, she never forgot, as some old servants do, to treat me quite like a young lady, now I was growing older.
Somebody else heard it too. "Mrs Kezia's sermons are as short as some parsons' texts," said Ephraim, quietly, and not in a whisper. "But you would not say," observed Mr Parmenter, without indicating to whom he addressed himself, "that this cause, now ha of which we were speaking, that the lives, I mean ha were sacrificed to any particular person?"
He turned away his head to avoid Kezia's glance. She did not let the matter drop, however. A fortnight or more had passed by. Mr Fluke had missed one of his favourite tulips, which grew in a flower-pot. On inquiring for it of Joseph: "It's all safe," was the answer, "I'm trying an experiment with it."
She was half in the paddock still and half in the tussock grass. She clutched the post desperately and lifted up her voice. "Wait for me!" "No, don't you wait for her, Kezia!" said Isabel. "She's such a little silly. She's always making a fuss. Come on!" And she tugged Kezia's jersey. "You can use my bucket if you come with me," she said kindly. "It's bigger than yours."
"Kezia's a wonderful woman," remarked Mr Fluke, after she had left the room. "I have a great respect for her, as you see. She is worth her weight in gold; she keeps everything in order, her husband and me to boot. Years ago, before she came to me, I had a large black tom cat; he was somewhat of a pet, and as I kept him in order, he always behaved properly in my presence.
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