Says he, "With all my heart, sir, seeing that you add this to my other obligations."
"What be those?" said I.
He gave me a bow, for he was a civil gentleman, though of a rustic habit. "You protect us, sir," he said. "We are relying upon your good weapons and bright courage in the face of emergency."
I laughed. "Oh, as for that," I said, "I can promise you there's none likely to infest you. You are as safe as in Whitehall within these fields of white."
"That is well said," remarked the man in black. "And I shall eat, for my part, with the better assurance after that promise."
He had certain sourness of voice, at which, however, I could not take offence, for there was nothing in his words to warrant it. But Harringay must be popping into the conversation, and so I turned my spleen on him.
"I would not promise," said he, "that we shall not be molested. There is plenty of cut-throats about, as I have heard."
"Lord, Harringay!" says the old lady, dropping her knife and fork, "you terrify me. What possessed us to come on this journey?"
He simpered, as one pleased with his effort, adding, "'Tis known as the worst road out of London."