“What’s in him!” said the old housekeeper, raising her tortoise-shell spectacles so as to get a good look at Maria, who seemed quite excited.
“Master may have tutors as is clergymen to teach him, and Miss Helen may talk and try, but he’s got it in him, and you can’t get it out.”
“Who are you talking about, Maria,” said the old lady testily.
“That boy,” said Maria, shaking her head. “It’s of no good, he’s got it in him, and nothing won’t get it out.”
“Bless my heart!” cried Mrs Millett, thinking first of mustard and water, and then of castor-oil, “has the poor fellow swallowed something?”
“No-o-o-o!” ejaculated Maria, drawing the word out to nearly a foot in length.
“But you said he’d got something in him, Maria. Good gracious me, girl! what do you mean!”
“Sin and wickedness, Mrs Millett. He comes of a bad lot, and Dan’l says he’s always keeping bad company.”
“Dan’l’s a chattering old woman, and had better mind his slugs and snails.”
“But the boy’s always in mischief; see how he spoiled your silk dress.”