“You’d ruin any lad you were mother to,” answered her sister.
Hans now coming in, she set on him.
“Look here, Hans Floriszoon! Didst ever see any thing like this?”
Hans smiled. “Oh ay, Mistress Murthwaite, I have seen men to use them.”
“Hast one of these fiddle-faddles thyself? or dost thou desire to have one?”
“Neither, in good sooth,” was his reply.
“There, Mr Louvaine! hearken, prithee.”
“Hans is only a boy; I am a man,” said Aubrey, loftily: though Hans was but a year younger than himself.
“Lancaster and Derby! and are you then content, my Lord Man, that a contemptible boy should have better wit than your magnifical self? Truly, I think Hans was a man before thou hadst ended sucking of thy thumb.”
Just then Charity brought in the Rector.