"I want lodgings near the Haymarket. Nice and airy—with a balcony if possible, and—well, Moll knows what attracts sweet seventeen."
"That's young for a pearl necklace."
"'Tis hers by inheritance. The lodgings must be cheerful because Miss is shy."
"Oh, Moll knows what every age likes best. She'll buy a dear little singing goldfinch and put him in a cage and hang him up in the window. Who knows? P'raps it'll breed a nice little nestful of goldfinches for Moll. 'Ow many?"
"I can discuss that with Moll herself," said Vernon.
"Ah, but Moll's so soft 'arted. Not less than fifty goldfinches, mind, and if a little hindrance arrives, 'tis to come down to Blackhart Farm—mind—and be cared for by old Mother Mawhood wot's kind even to the pore little flies on the pane."
"You look too far into the future, old lady," said Vernon.
"And so a body should, my fancy boy," the hag answered. "Now I wager you ain't thought nothin' about postillions?"
"Time enough for that."
"Yes, time enough I dare say, but you ought to engage 'em in advance. That's vat the quality does ven they writes to me. Have you got a pair of good honest postboys?"