“It’s not yer money, Murgatroyd, so ye don’t have to worry about it,” Mrs. Turner interjected, glaring at him. “And I’d watch yer step if I was ye. Mrs. W.’s a very practical woman, knows the world, and she was right put out, that she was, when she discovered the house was short on help. Right mad, if ye wants my opinion. I wouldn’t try her patience, oh no, not at all.”

“The Squire runs this house. It’s what he says that goes.”

“No, it’s not. He defers to Mrs. W. That’s why he brought her here.”

“Mebbe for other reasons as well,” Murgatroyd muttered, a malevolent look in his eyes.

“What did ye say?” Mrs. Turner snapped, rounding on him. “Shut yer gob right now, mister, or I’ll make sure ye don’t work here after today.”

He laughed at her, and then glanced at Emma eating with Blackie. “She should be working, not stuffing her gob—”

“Murgatroyd, I give you one second to shut up and leave my domain. And I warn ye, if ye attempt ter make any trouble I will go ter the Squire. I’ve worked here for thirty years, since I was a girl, and Squire Fairley listens ter me. And he’ll take my advice. Understood? So don’t try ter play top dog with me. It won’t get ye anywhere except outside on yer backside.”

Swinging around, Murgatroyd stomped out, banging the kitchen door behind him so hard the copper pots on the rail rattled.

“Good riddance ter bad rubbish,” Mrs. Turner said, and took the pie out of the oven. As she carried it over to the big table, she remembered Kip. She hadn’t seen the boot boy for quite a while. Now where was he?

Looking over at Blackie, she said, “Can ye nip downstairs ter the top basement? I haven’t seen young Kip for a bit. He must be hungry by now. Bring him to the kitchen, please?”

“Right away,” Blackie answered, and jumped up. “Back in a minute, Cook.”

Emma said, “Kip’s such a nice little boy, but why doesn’t he live with Delphinium all the time?”

“She teaches at the little kindergarten in the village, and she also does a lot of sewing for the ladies in this area. Busy she is. But she has him at weekends.” Dropping her voice, Cook said, “And the Squire gives him money for cleaning all the riding boots and shoes. Right kind, that’s Adam Fairley. Allus helping others less privileged.”

“I see,” Emma murmured, and then smiled warmly at Kip, as he walked in holding Blackie’s hand. The blond boy grinned at her; they liked each other.

“There ye are, Kip. Whyever didn’t ye come up ter eat something before, my lad?” Cook asked, her voice warm.

“I wanted ter finish the boots. And I just have. And here I am,” Kip answered.