“See here, thou yoong whelp, this is private, and we want noan o’ thy spyin’!”
“But I maun speak to Mr. Wilson.”
The young Cantab stepped forward.
“Well, my lad, what is it?”
“It’s aboot t’ fight, Mr. Wilson, sir. I wanted to tell your mon somethin’ aboot t’ Maister.”
“We’ve no time to listen to gossip, my boy. We know all about the Master.”
“But thou doan’t, sir. Nobody knows but me and mother, and we thought as we’d like thy mon to know, sir, for we want him to fair bray him.”
“Oh, you want the Master fair brayed, do you? So do we. Well, what have you to say?”
“Is this your mon, sir?”
“Well, suppose it is?”