“Rich folks, I allers say, should be treated wi’ respect—because why? They can make we pore ’uns so danged uncomfortsome. Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but I’ll sit me down under old tree. It ha’ seen a sight o’ things, to be sure.”
Grimshaw and Cicely exchanged rueful glances, sensible that the Ancient had diddled them squarely. He cackled on:
“Lumbager has me this instant minute. ’Twas the third tankard as done it.”
Grimshaw stood up, looking at his watch and addressing Cicely:
“I must see a patient on the Wilverley road.”
Cicely nodded, as he continued formally for the benefit of Nicodemus: “Better get home, Miss Chandos, before the storm breaks. Till—to-night.”
“Eight punctually, Mr. Grimshaw.”
He picked up his bag and strode off. Nicodemus smacked his lips.
“A very forcible man, doctor.”
“Yes, he is—and so are you, granfer.”