“Well,” said Bruff at last, “I suppose I had better go out to work.”
But he only looked out of the kitchen window at the garden and shook his head.
“Don’t seem to hev no ’art in it,” he said, looking from one to the other, as if this were quite a new condition for him to be in. “Seems to miss him so, and look wheer you will theer’s a something as puts you in mind of him. Well, all I says is this, and both of you may hear it, only let him get well and he may do any mortal thing in my garden, and I won’t complain.”
Bruff took up his mug, looked inside it, and set it down again with a frown.
“My missus is coming up to see if she can do owt for you ’s afternoon.”
“Ah!” sighed cook, “you never know what neighbours is till you’re in trouble, ’Liza.”
“No.”
“Go up, soft like, and ask missus if I may send her a cup o’ tea.”
“No,” said Eliza, decisively; “pour one out and I’ll take it up. And I say, dear, you know what a one master is for it; why don’t you send him up the little covered basin o’ beef tea. There, I’ll go and put a napkin over a tray.”
Perhaps it was due to being called “dear,” perhaps to the fact there was an outlet for the strong beef tea she had so carefully prepared; at any rate Martha smiled and went to the cupboard for the pepper, and then to the salt-box, to season the beef tea according to her taste.