“Ay, do, sir, and if I might make so bold to say so, if you’d talk to him like you did to me about the robins and their taking his grapes, it would interest him like, and may be do him good. I’d dearly like to see Sir James himself again. It’s my belief he ’as got something on his mind?”
“I would give something to be able to ease him, Monnick. Well, I’ll take your advice.”
“Do, sir, do. Bless me, I could stand all day and hear you talk, sir, but I must be getting on. An’,” he added, as the doctor strolled off, “it’s curious, very curious, but I s’pose it’s all true, but I don’t kind o’ like to hear a man, even if he be a gentleman, upsetting all what you’ve been taught and cherished like.”
He went on weeding for a few minutes, and then straightened himself once more.
“The robin and the wren be God’s cock and hen. Well, now I come to think of it, I never see ’em together. P’r’aps the doctor’s right.”
Volume Two—Chapter Eight.
Old John is Paternal, and Fanny Makes a Promise.
“Now do give me a rose, Mr Monnick; do, please.”