He stared after the traps, and says he in an interested voice, "Who be they? Is it my Lord Blackdown?"
Now this comparison of that wry-necked, pock-faced villain Grubbe to a person of quality tickled me, but I answered, keeping a straight face,—
"Well, not exactly," says I, "not my lord, but another that should stand, or hang, as high maybe, and shall some day."
"Oh," says he, gazing at me, "a friend of yours, sir?"
He was of a ruddy colour, and his mouth was habitually a little open, giving him an expression of perpetual wonder and innocence, so that, bless you, I knew him at once for what he was at heart—a simple fellow of a natural kindliness, and one of no experience in the world, and a pretty dull wit.
"Not, as you might call him, a friend," said I, gravely, "but rather one that has put an affront upon me."
"You should wipe it out, sir," says this innocent, seriously. "I would allow no man to put an affront on me, gad, I would not."
"Why," said I, dryly, "I bide my time, being, if I may say so, of less mustard and pepper than yourself. Nevertheless, it shall be wiped out to the last stain."
"Gad, I like that spirit," says he, briskly, and, as if it constituted a bond betwixt us, he began to amble slowly at my side. "If there is any mischief, sir," says he, "I trust you will allow me to stand your friend."
Here was innocence indeed, yet I could have clapped him on the back for a brick of good-fellowship and friendliness, and, relaxing my tone, I turned the talk on himself.