“Yes: where would your shilling be now, eh?”
“Well, young folks will be young folks; but I was deceived.”
“Yes, you were. Poor chap. He little thought when he left me in low spirits, because he couldn’t get to see his lass, how soon his chances were going to mend. Bah! Miss Claude didn’t care that for the other one—a mean, sneaking sort of fellow. How the poor guv’nor could have taken to him as he did, I don’t know.”
“Well, you do surprise me,” said Wimble, re-tucking in the cloth which had been disarranged by Brime’s “don’t care that” and snap of the fingers.
“Yes, I thought I could; but keep it quiet.”
“By all means, Mr Brime. Your girl’s in sad trouble, I suppose?”
“Crying her eyes out, poor lass. Master was as hard as his own stone; but they had been very fond of each other.”
“Yes; and I s’pose he was a good-hearted, generous man underneath. Give away a great deal to the poor.”
“Not he, Wimble. There was a deal given away, but it was Miss Claude did all that, bless her. Master—there; I’m not going to say a word again’ the dead.”
“No, no, of course not, sir; but what trouble you must be in!”