“I say, who is old Billy?” said Dexter.
“Hush, my boy! Don’t interpose when people are speaking.”
“Oh, let him talk, sir,” said the butcher, good-naturedly. “I like to hear a boy want to know. It’s what my boy won’t do. He’s asleep half his time, and I feed him well too.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor.
“Billy’s my old bull, as I always keeps shut up close in my yard, because he is dangerous.”
“And very properly,” said the doctor.
“Quite right, sir, quite right; and I want to know then what right Sir James has to come ordering me about. He’s no customer of mine. Took it all away and give it to Mossetts, because he said the mutton was woolly, when I give you my word, sir, that it was as good a bit o’ mutton as I ever killed.”
“Yes, yes, Dengate, but what has all this to do with me?” said the doctor testily.
“Well, sir, begging your pardon, only this: your young lady and young gentleman was there, and I want to know the rights of it all. My man says the beasts are quiet enough, only playful, and I say the same; but I may be making a mistake. I went in the medder this morning, with my boy Ezry, and he could drive ’em anywheres, and he’s only ten. Did they trouble your young folks, sir?”
“Well, Dexter: you can answer that,” said the doctor.