"What sort?" said Mr. Starling. "A good sort, or he wouldn't be my master."
"And where do ye come from?"
"India."
Willie shook his head.
"Ay, that's where Master John coom from."
"Just so," said Mr. Starling. "They were sworn friends—what you may call brothers with two mothers. My guv'nor was Mr. Mildmay's particular pal, thick as thieves, and—come, what do you say to another wet?"
"No more," said Willie, answering for himself and the rest of the company.
"Well, if you won't I'll see about climbing," said Mr. Starling. "It's a rum thing to build a house on a hill; it's awkward for a gentleman after he's took his evening's glass at the pub. Now, if it was me I should 'a' built it down here in the village, just next door to the 'Blue Lion,'" and with a wink he stuck his hat well on the side of his head and walked toward the door.
At that moment, however, Martha entered, and, looking round, said, sharply:
"Are you going to sit here all day, Willie Sanderson, with all them fish to send off to Lunnon? Are ye daft, man?"