“Well, but if lawyers be thus bad, Jack—though my sister’s husband is a lawyer, mind thou—”
“He’s a rascal, then!” breaks in Jack. “They’re all rascals, every wastrel (an unprincipled, good-for-nothing fellow) of ’em.”
“But what fashion of folk be better?” saith Milly. “Thou seest, Jack, we maids be nigh old enough for wedding, and I would fain know the manner of man a woman were best to wed.”
“Best let ’em all a-be,” growls Jack. “Women’s always snarin’ o’ men. Women’s bad uns. Howbeit, you lasses down at th’ Hall are th’ better end, I reckon.”
“Oh, thank you, Jack!” cries Milly with much warmth. “Now do tell me—shall I wed with a chirurgeon?”
“And take p’ison when he’s had enough of you,” quoth Jack. “Nay, never go in for one o’ them chaps. They kills folks all th’ day, and lies a-thinkin’ how to do it all th’ night.”
“A soldier, then?” saith Milly.
“Hired murderers,” saith Jack.
“Come, Jack, thou art hard on a poor maid. Thou wilt leave me ne’er a one. Oh, ay, there is the parson.”
“What!” shrieks forth Jack. “One o’ they Babylonian mass-mongers? Hypocrites, wolves in sheep’s clothing a-pretending for to be shepherds! Old ’Zekiel, he’s summut to say touching them. You get home, and just read his thirty-fourth chapter; and wed one o’ them wastrels at after, if ye can! Now then, get ye forth; I’ve had enough o’ women. I telled ye so.”