“And now, sir,” said Patty, endeavouring to call up a frown, “what have you to say for yourself? How is it you have kept your wife waiting in this way?”
“Couldn’t help it, dear.”
“And why not?”
“Well, in the first place, I had got to start ’em right with their sowing for the spring wheat, and after that I made over to Oakfield.”
“To Oakfield, eh?”
“Yes, one of my chaps told me John was not at all the thing, and I was a bit anxious, you see.”
“And how did you find him then?”
“Oh, only middling—very middling one might say. He don’t seem to ha’ a bit a life about him.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Oh, no; but Maude, poor gell, troubles herself a goodish bit. Well, it aint to be wondered at. He gets such strange notions in his head. I must go over there for a day or two, and give him a good talking to, else—hang me, if he won’t go melancholy mad or summat.”