“Ah, that’s no good. He says he had so many asked him at school that he’ll never answer no more.”
“Where is he? Call him,” said Uncle Richard.
“He arn’t at home, and you can’t see him.”
“How long will he be?”
“I d’know. P’raps he won’t come back no more, so you needn’t come poking about here.”
“When did he go out last?” said Uncle Richard.
“Last week I think, but my mind arn’t good now at figgers. Tell me what you want, and if ever I see him again I’ll tell him.”
“We are wasting time, Tom,” said Uncle Richard in a whisper.
“Yes,” said the old woman viciously; “you’re wasting time. It’s no use for you to come here to try and get things to say again my poor boy. I know you and your ways. You want to get him sent away, I know; and you’re not going to do it. I know you all—parson and doctor, and you, Brandon, you’re all against my poor innocent boy; but you’re not going to hurt him, for you’ve got me to reckon with first.”
“Your sight and hearing seem to have come back pretty readily, Mrs Warboys.”