“Eat thy supper, lad, and let them buzzing things be!” said Osbert. “There’ll never be no end to it, and thou mayest as well shut the portcullis first as last.”
“Them’s my thoughts too,” said Stephen.
“Then you sha’n’t have another mouthful.”
“Nay, you’re off your bargain. I answered the question, I’m sure.”
“You’ve been after some’at ill, as I’m a living woman! You’d have told me fast enough if you hadn’t. There’s the pie,”—Anania set it up on a high shelf—“take it down if you dare!”
“I’ve no wish to quarrel with you, Sister. I’ll go and finish my supper at Aunt Isel’s—they’ll give me some’at there, I know.”
“Anania, don’t be such a goose!” said Osbert.
“Don’t you meddle, or you’ll get what you mayn’t like!” was the conjugal answer.
Osbert rose and took down a switch from its hook on the wall.
“You’ll get it first, my lady!” said he: and Stephen, who never had any fancy for quarrelling, and was wont to leave the house when such not unfrequent scenes occurred, shut the door on the ill-matched pair, and went off to Kepeharme Lane.