For my share of disguising,
I now rubbed together some ruddle and dry soil, and the mixture gave a
necessary touch of coarseness to her hands. Altogether she was changed out
of recognition, even if, which was not the case, any of her pursuers had
seen her previously.
"Jane," said I, "her name is Molly Brown. She has served here two years.
Her mother lives at Colwich. Have you both got that?"
"Molly Brown--two years--mother at Colwich," said madam with a smile, and
Jane repeated it after her.
"Now, Molly," said I, with an answering smile, "Jane will start you
churning. It's an easy job. You just turn a handle till the butter comes.
Do not flatter yourself that you'll get any butter, but I'll forgive you
that. And, having learned from Jane how to pretend to do it, you need not
churn in earnest till the dragoons ride into the yard. Listen to Jane, and
you, Jane, for the next ten minutes, teach the lady how to talk
Staffordshire fashion."
"Rate y'are, Master Noll," said Jane, who was plainly bursting with the
importance of her task.
"First lesson, madam," said I. "'Rate y'are,' not 'Right you are!' It was
not Mr.
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