“Well,” said Dennis, “I mean to ask him to let you stop. Only you must promise me first not to have any more bouts.”
Tuvvy was so taken by surprise, that he stopped working and turned his whole face round upon Dennis, who sat, an upright little figure, on the chopping-block, with a flushed and eager face.
“Thank ye kindly, master,” he said, after a moment’s survey; “you mean well, but ’tain’t no use.”
“Why not?” asked Dennis, in a resolute voice.
“I couldn’t keep that there promise,” said Tuvvy, “not if I was to make it. There’s times when I can’t get past the Cross Keys; I’m drawed into it.”
“Why do you pass it, then?” asked Dennis.
“I don’t pass it, master, worse luck. I go in.”
“But I mean,” said Dennis, getting still redder in the face with the effort to explain himself, “why do you go by the Cross Keys at all?”
“Well, I have to,” said Tuvvy, “twice in the day. Once of a morning and once of a evening. I live at Upwell, you see, master.”
Dennis had never known or cared where Tuvvy lived, and indeed it hardly seemed natural to think of him in any other place than at work in the barn. It was odd to think he had a home in Upwell.