"Yes, my lady," he answered. "Joseph Buttle, your ladyship."
"I am Miss Vanderpoel," dismissing the suddenly bestowed title with easy
directness. "Are you busy? I want to talk to you."
No one had any reason to be "busy" at any time in Stornham village, no
such luck; but Buttle did not smile as he replied that he was at liberty
and placed himself at his visitor's disposal. The tall young lady came
into the little shop, and took the chair respectfully offered to her.
Buttle saw her eyes sweep the place as if taking in its resources.
"I want to talk to you about some work which must be done at the Court,"
she explained at once. "I want to know how much can be done by workmen
of the village. How many men have you?"
"How many men had he?" Buttle wavered between gratification at its being
supposed that he had "men" under him and grumpy depression because the
illusion must be dispelled.
"There's me and Sim Soames, miss," he answered. "No more, an' no less."
"Where can you get more?" asked Miss Vanderpoel.
It could not be denied that Buttle received a mental shock which verged
in its suddenness on being almost a physical one. The promptness and
decision of such a query swept him off his feet.
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