“Her as you write to. I saw you scribbling, and watched you sneak off down to the village to post it.”
“You’re a wicked fibster, Jenny.”
“Oh, no, I’m not. What did you give the postman five shillings for?”
“I didn’t,” said the boy, flaring up.
“Yes, you did, and it was to bring letters for you on the sly, I shall write and inform the post-office people.”
“Yes, you do, and I’ll half kill you, and poison old Mark.”
“There! I knew it. Who is she?”
“You be off.”
“No, nor I shan’t be off neither. I believe it’s Dan Smart’s girl, who’s gone to London. Oh, my! what a wicked one you are, Master Syd, for such a boy. Your sangwidges is ready. Shall I bring ’em here?”
“Did you get the flask?”