Chapter Eighteen.
“Nay, sir, I don’t know any more about it, and I arn’t a-going to say nowt about it, but if that there poor bairn—”
“What poor bairn?” said James Ellis angrily, as he stood in the keeping-room of old Tummus’s cottage. “I was asking you about John Grange.”
“Well, I know you were. Arn’t he quite a bairn to me?”
“Please don’t be cross with him, Mr Ellis, sir,” said old Hannah respectfully; “it’s only his way, sir.”
“Very well, let him go on,” cried James Ellis testily.
“Just you keep your spoon out o’ the broth, mother,” grumbled old Tummus, “I know what I’m about.”
“Well, what was it you were going to say?” asked the bailiff.