the Vales have always been respectable. Grimstone is the grandest old place in the countryside, and would you go and disgrace us all?"
"My God," said Derek, "would you send that poor child back to her crazy mother to be beaten again, perhaps killed?"
"Why did she wait till she was coming here to beat her? Why did she bring her back here at all? Just because she thought you was easy prey. Leave me to deal with them Indians, Mr. Vale. I understand 'em, through and through, from their dirty black hair to their sneaky, flat feet. You leave 'em to me."
"Mrs. Machin," said Derek, firmly, "I am going to protect that young girl. Get me some sheets for her bed."
"I won't do nothing of the sort," she repeated, attacking the porridge with renewed spite. "If she sleeps here, she sleeps on the mattress or the floor. It don't matter to me."
"Very well. I'll get the sheets myself," He left her angrily, and strode through the house and up the stairway. He pulled open a heavy drawer in an old chest of drawers that stood at the top of the stairs. He knew that the bed linen was kept there. He had barely extracted a pair of sheets and was searching for pillow cases when Mrs. Machin came panting up the stairs behind him. She carried a lamp in her hand which she set down heavily on the chest.
"Here," she said, thickly, "if it's got to be done, I'll do it. I won't have you messin' about in my linen." She took the sheets from him roughly, and, after examining them with a groan, gave him two of coarser material, and a patched pillow case.
With a curt "thanks," Derek left her and went to Fawnie's door. He tapped.
The door opened a little way. He saw that Fawnie had laid the baby on the bed, and had opened the small drawers
