“Then you take my advice, sir. Just you don’t try ’em, for they’re about the poorest, moshiest-poshiest things you ever tasted.”
“But the people here seem to like them.”
“Oh yes, they like ’em, sir. They seem as if they’d eat anything, and I suppose that’s why their skins are so black. But, as I was saying, they don’t seem to want beef, or mutton, or pickled pork, and yet they get fat. It’s the sunshine, I believe. They go on swallowing that all day long. I mean to try how it acts as soon as I get a good chance.”
“You’re quite lazy enough without doing that,” said Jack, laughing.
“Now I do call that ’ard, Mr Jack, sir—reg’lar out an’ out hard. I’m sure I never neglects anything. You don’t want, nor Sir John neither, anything like so much valeting as you do at home. There’s no boots to brush, nor clothes neither. I’m sure, sir, I never neglected you, only just for that little bit when I seemed to be standing on my head because my legs wouldn’t hold me up—now, have I, sir?”
“Oh no. You’ve always been very attentive, Ned.”
“Then that’s why I call it ’ard, sir. Ever since you’ve been growing sharp and quick, and wanting to do something else besides read, you’ve been getting ’arder to me, sir, and I don’t like it.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’ve only laughed at you sometimes.”
“Well, sir, look at that. You never used to laugh at me at home, nor you usen’t to order me about, nor you usen’t to—well, you never used to do nothing, sir, but read.”
Jack frowned, and reddened a little.