“Didn’t come back,” said the bailiff, repeating the old man’s words.
“We didn’t set up for him because we know’d he’d shut oop all right, and if he didn’t nobody wouldn’t come and steal our plate, ’cause the owd woman allus taks it to bed wi’ her.”
“Tummus!”
“Well, so you do; six silver teaspoons, on’y one was lost years ago, and the sugar bows, sir, she allus wrops ’em up in an owd pocky ankychy.”
“There is no water near,” said James Ellis, as if to himself, but old Tummus’s ears were sharp enough.
“There’s the river.”
“Two miles away, Tummus.”
“What’s two miles to a man who wants to drownd hissen! Why, if I wanted to mak’ a hole in the watter I’d walk twenty.”
“Tummus, I will not have you say such dreadful things.”
“It’s very, very sad, Hannah,” said James Ellis at last; “and I’m more upset about it than I can say, for he was a fine, worthy young fellow, and as good a gardener as ever stepped.”