Page 190 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’Well!’ Connie hesitated. ‘Just for a minute.’
Mrs Flint flew wildly in to tidy up, and Connie came
slowly after her, hesitating in the rather dark kitchen where
the kettle was boiling by the fire. Back came Mrs Flint.
’I do hope you’ll excuse me,’ she said. ‘Will you come in
here?’
They went into the living-room, where a baby was sit-
ting on the rag hearth rug, and the table was roughly set
for tea. A young servant-girl backed down the passage, shy
and awkward.
The baby was a perky little thing of about a year, with red
hair like its father, and cheeky pale-blue eyes. It was a girl,
and not to be daunted. It sat among cushions and was sur-
rounded with rag dolls and other toys in modern excess.
’Why, what a dear she is!’ said Connie, ‘and how she’s
grown! A big girl! A big girl!’
She had given it a shawl when it was born, and celluloid
ducks for Christmas.
’There, Josephine! Who’s that come to see you? Who’s
this, Josephine? Lady Chatterley—you know Lady Chatter-
ley, don’t you?’
The queer pert little mite gazed cheekily at Connie. La-
dyships were still all the same to her.
’Come! Will you come to me?’ said Connie to the baby.
The baby didn’t care one way or another, so Connie
picked her up and held her in her lap. How warm and lovely
it was to hold a child in one’s lap, and the soft little arms, the
unconscious cheeky little legs.
’I was just having a rough cup of tea all by myself. Luke’s

1