“Oh master says he’ll attend to it immediate,” was the reply.
“Because,” said the milkman, going on as if he had received no answer, and speaking, as I judged from his tone, rather for the edification of somebody within the house, than of the youthful servant—an impression which was strengthened by his manner of glaring down the passage—“Because that there little bill has been running so long, that I begin to believe it’s run away altogether, and never won’t be heerd of. Now, I’m not a going to stand it, you know!” said the milkman, still throwing his voice into the house, and glaring down the passage.
As to his dealing in the mild article of milk, by-the-by, there never was a greater anomaly. His deportment would have been fierce in a butcher or a brandy merchant.
The voice of the youthful servant became faint, but she seemed to me,
from the action of her lips, again to murmur that it would be attended to immediate.
“I tell you what,” said the milkman, looking hard at her for the first time, and taking her by the chin, “are you fond of milk?”
“Yes, I likes it,” she replied.
“Good,” said the milkman. “Then you won’t have none to-morrow. D’ye hear? Not a fragment of milk you won’t have to-morrow.”
I thought she seemed, upon the whole, relieved, by the prospect of having any to-day. The milkman, after shaking his head at her, darkly, released her chin, and with any thing rather than good will opened his can, and deposited the usual quantity in the family jug. This done, he went away, muttering, and uttered the cry of his trade next door, in a vindictive shriek.
“Does Mr. Traddles live here?” I then enquired.