“I? After the fruit, sir? Bless your heart, no; I was only watching.”
“What! for thieves?”
The gardener hesitated, and remained silent.
“There, that’s better; don’t tell a lie, man. I think the better of you. But shame upon you! with your poor master broken, helpless, and obliged to depend upon his people. To go and rob him now, of all times. John Monnick, you are a contemptible, canting old humbug.”
“No, I aren’t, doctor,” said the old fellow angrily; “and you’ll beg my pardon for this.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Ay, that you will, sir. It was all on account of master, and him not being able to look after things, as brought me here.”
“I don’t believe you, Monnick.”
“You can do as you like, sir,” said the old man sturdily; “but it’s all as true as gorspel. I couldn’t bear to see such goings-on; and I says to myself, it’s time as they was stopped; and I thought they was, till I come in late to lock up the peach-house, and see her go down the garden.”
The doctor rose from his seat, startled.