“Good-evenin', Mr. De Blacquaire,” said Fuller. “We're pleased to see you. If you'd care to tek a hand i'stead of settin' idle by to listen, we shall be glad to mek room. Eh, lads?”
“No, no, thank you, Mr. Fuller,” said Ferdinand, “I would rather be a listener.” Ruth was standing near the table, and he raised his cap to her. She answered his salute with a smile of welcome, and brought him a chair. “Good-evening, Miss Fuller,” he said, standing cap in hand before her. “What unusually beautiful weather we are having. Do you know, I am quite charmed with this old garden? There is something delightfully rustic and homely and old-fashioned about it.”
“You are looking at the statues?” she said, with half a laugh. “They are an idea of father's. He wants to have them painted, but I always stand out against that—they look so much better as they are.”
“Painted?” answered Ferdinand, with a little grimace, and a little lifting of the hands and shrinking of the body as if the idea hurt him physically. “Oh no. Pray don't have them painted.”
“Well, well. Theer!” cried Fuller. “Here's another as is in favor o' grime an' slime! It's three to three now. Ruth and Reuben have allays been for leavin' 'em i' this way.”
“Really, Mr. Fuller,” said Ferdinand, “you must be persuaded to leave them as they are. As they are they are charming. It would be quite a crime to paint them. It would be horribly bad taste to paint them!”
After this partisan espousal of her cause, he was a little surprised to notice an indefinable but evident change in the rustic beauty's manner. Perhaps she disliked to hear a stranger accuse her father—however truly—of horribly bad taste, but this did not occur to Ferdinand, who had intended to show her that a gentleman was certain to sympathize with whatever trace of refinement he might discover in her.
“Would it?” said Fuller, simply. “Well, theer's three of a mind, and they'm likely enough to be right. Anny ways theer's no danger of a brush coming anigh 'em while the young missis says 'No.' Her word's law i' this house, and has been ever since her was no higher than the table.”
“Wasn't that a ring at the front door?” asked Sennacherib, holding up his hand.
“Run and see, wench,” said Fuller.