“Because I can’t, sir,” I replied sadly.
“Be silent, Brownsmith,” cried Sir Francis fiercely.
“He’s too good a mate to tell,” said Ike stoutly. “Here, I may as well make a clean breast of it, and here it is. I’m an old soldier, sir, and—well, theer, it got hold of me at dinner-time. ’Stead of having anything to eat I had a lot to drink, having had some salt herrin’ for breakfast, and I suppose I took too much.”
“Herring, my man?”
“No, your worship, beer; and I went to sleep down among the bushes. There, that’s the honest truth, Mr Brownsmith’s brother. Fact as fact.”
“I believe you, Ike,” said Mr Solomon. “He’s a very honest workman, Sir Francis.”
“Thank ye; I call that handsome, I do,” said Ike.
“Stop! this is getting very irregular,” cried Sir Francis. “Now, Grant, once more. Did you not go down the garden thinking you would get some of those pears?”
“No, Sir Francis.”
“To meet that man, and let him take them away?”