"Ah, well, Fancy, 'tis a fact that many of our boys are like George. Shifting manure's their proper job, and they do that so slow that I get weary watching 'em. Young Master Teddy is the real right sort. What he's done, giving up a grand position, fills me nose-high with pride. And too little was said about him,—a very notable oversight."
"That was because Mr. Teddy is quality."
"You're right, my pretty maid. Are you aware, Miss Broomfield, that your fingers are playing the piano on my ribs?"
Love-making put to flight the less agreeable theme.
Mrs. Yellam and Jane Mucklow went home side by side. Jane, as the mother of the hero, maintained an aggressive silence. Susan Yellam said, with a faint inflection of interrogation:
"You be a proud 'ooman to-night, Jane?"
"You be wrong, as usual. I bain't nothing of the sart."
"Squire and old Captain spoke up so handsome about your Garge."
"Be I the old fool they takes me for? 'Twas soft soap, Susan, ladled out in a big spoon; flimflam I calls it. Habakkuk can ha' the pride, and welcome. He be fair swollen wi' that and ale as Garge is payin' for."
"I listen to no ill talk about my brother, Jane."