"Then he is going to die if he sends out his horse at this time o'
night. Look here, Tobias: I'll put my portmanteau inside and come on
the box to have a talk with you--you're such a jolly old card, you
know--and you'll tell me all that's happened since I last enjoyed my
uncle's bountiful hospitality."
This the young man did: and then the brown-faced, wiry and surly
little person, having started his horse, proceeded to tell his story
in a series of grumbling and disconnected sentences. He was not nearly
so taciturn as he looked: "The maaester he went suen to bed to-night:
'twere Miss Juliott sent me to the station, without tellin' en. He's
gettin' worse and worse, that's sure: if yue be for giving me half a
crown, like, or any one that comes to the house, he finds it out and
stops it out o' my wages: yes, he does, zor, the old fule!"
"Tobias, be a little more respectful to my uncle, if you please."
"Why, zor, yue knaw en well enough," said the man in the same surly
fashion. "And I'll tell yue this, Maaester Harry, if yue be after
dinner with en, and he has a bottle o' poort wine that he puts on
the mantelpiece, and he says to yue to let that aloaen, vor 'tis a
medicine-zart o' wine, don't yue heed en, but have that wine. 'Tis the
real old poort wine, zor, that yuer vather gied en--the dahmned old
pagan!"
The young man burst out laughing, instead of reprimanding Tobias, who
maintained his sulky impassiveness of face.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251