“It’s a pity, dear, that he is so vulgar.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s frank and honesty and don’t pretend to be anything more that what he is—a successful tradesman. Never saw a man less of a snob. Oh, there are the Lambents. I say, who’s the lady talking to the parson?”
“I don’t know, my dear,” said Mrs Canninge, “unless it is the new schoolmistress.”
“Nonsense: can’t be. Oh, here’s Burge! How are you, Burge? Glad you’ve got such a fine day for your treat.”
“So am I, Mr Canninge, so am I. Thank you for coming, sir. Thank you for coming too, ma’am. My sister is up by the house, and there’s lunch in the dining-room, and you’ll excuse me, won’t you! I have such heaps to do.”
“Excuse you, of course. And I say, Burge, your going to give the youngsters some fun, I hope?”
“Fun, sir? I mean to let them have a jolly good lark.”
“Don’t let Lambent get them together and preach at the poor little beggars.”
Mr William Forth Burge’s face expanded, and he showed all his white teeth.
“That’s what I like sir. That’s the genuine old English squire said that.”