“Oh, old Prawle says so, does he?” continued Uncle Paul.
“Yes; and I told him the Indian file thought the same.”
“The what?” said Uncle Paul.
“The Indian file—you,” said Geoffrey, coolly.
Uncle Paul thumped his stick on the floor, and looked daggers.
“Look here, young fellow,” he said, sharply, “you go a deal too much to Gwennas Cove, and it don’t look well.”
“Haven’t been half so often lately,” said Geoffrey, coolly.
“You go ten times too much. Look here, boy, have you seen how pale and ill that jade, Madge, looks?”
“No. Yes, to be sure, I did think she looked white.”
“Fretting, sir, fretting. Now look here, boy, it isn’t square.”