“I have made Mr. Fountain's pedigree out,” explained David.
“You don't say so! won't he be pleased?”
“Yes. Do you think she will be pleased?”
“Why not? She will look pleased, anyway. I say, don't you go and tell them the whole county was owned by the Dodds before Fountain, or Funteyn, or Font, was ever heard of.”
“Hardly. I have my own weaknesses, my lass; I've no need to adopt another man's.”
“Bless my soul, how wise you are got! So sudden, too! You shouldn't surprise a body like that. Lucky I'm not hysterical. Now let me think, David—Solomon, I mean—no, you shall keep this discovery back awhile; it may be wanted.” She then reminded him that the Fountains were capricious; that they had dropped him for a week, and eight again; if so, this might be useful to unlock their street door to him at need.
“Good heavens, Eve, what cunning!”
“David, when I have a bad cause in hand, I do one of two things: I drop it, or I go into it heart and soul. If my zeal offends you, I can retire from the contest with great pleasure.”
“No! no! no! no! no! If you leave the helm I shall go ashore directly”—dismay of David; grim satisfaction of his imp.
This matter settled, David asked Eve if she did not think Master Nelson (Mr. Fountain's new ward) was a very nice boy.