“I thought you would, Pannell,” I said. “Well, look here. My uncles are as good and kind-hearted men as ever lived.”
“And as nyste to work for as ever was,” said Pannell, giving an emphatic bang on his work as he hammered away.
“Well, I’m very fond of them,” I said.
“Nat’rally, lad, nat’rally.”
“And as I know they’re trying to do their best for everybody who works for them, as well as for themselves, so as to find bread for all—”
I stopped just then, for the big smith’s face was very red, and he was making a tremendous clangour with his hammer.
“Well,” I said, “it worries me very much to see that every now and then a big rat gets to their sack of wheat and gnaws a hole in it and lets the grain run out.”
“Where do they keep their wheat?” said Pannell, leaving off for awhile.
“Here,” I said.
“Ah! There’s part rats about these here rezzywors,” he said, thoughtfully. “Why don’t you set that trap?”