“You do, mum; you allus did,” said Jacky, winking solemnly to himself; “but that’s a fact.”
“I won’t believe it, Jacky,” said Mrs Glaire, snipping off sound leaves and blossoms in her agitation.
“It’s a fact, mum, and I don’t wonder at your feeling popped.”
“I’m not cross at all, Jacky,” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, with her face working, “for I don’t believe my son would stoop in that way.”
“But it’s a fack, mum; and you must send him away, or he’ll be taking a wife from among the Midianitish women. That’s so.”
“Now, I don’t want to hear gossip, man; but what have you heard? There, do stand still or you’ll tread on Prince.”
“Heard, mum? Lots. You should say, ‘What have you seen?’”
“Seen! Have you seen anything?”
Jacky put his thumb very far into his arm-hole, and spread his fingers very wide, as he rolled his head solemnly.
“You won’t tell Master Richard as you heard of it from me, mum?”