“Made it! I thought as much. Coffin lead, eh?”
“Never you mind about that, doctor. I found the lead when I was digging.”
“And did you find that oak chest when you were digging, you old rascal?”
“Nay, nay, nay, that’s nowt to do wi’ you, doctor. Physic’s your business, and not bits o’ furnitur’ in people’s houses.”
“Ah, well, we won’t quarrel about that, Moredock; only I’ve taken a fancy to that old chest. I’ll buy it of you.”
“Nay, you won’t, doctor; it isn’t for sale.”
“Then leave it to me in your will.”
“Nay, and I shan’t do that. It’s for my grandchild, Dalily, who’s up yonder at the Rectory, you know—her as had the measles when she was seventeen.”
“Ah, yes, I know—the dark-eyed, rosy-cheeked hussy. Lucky girl to inherit that chest.”
“Ay, but I don’t know as she’ll get it, doctor. Hussy! Yes, that’s it. That’s what she is, and if I see her talking to young Squire Luke Candlish’s brother, Tom Candlish, again, she shan’t have the chest.”