“Oi dedn’t mean they eggs,” laughed Caleb.
“Do go and see what Jinny can want,” Martha commanded him. “I shouldn’t be surprised if it is eggs—now that Mr. Flippance has opened his show he’ll be wanting them regularly.”
“Whatever for?” asked Will.
“He sucks ’em raw, like weasels, him and his darter,” explained Caleb. “They should say it’s good for the woice, and by all accounts showmen fares to have a mort o’ pieces to speak.”
“But why doesn’t Jinny sell him her own eggs?” asked Will.
“How do you know she has them?” asked Martha quickly.
“Hasn’t she?” he said lightly, reddening like the comb of the cock he had heard crowing.
“Not enough. That old sinner eats her out of house and home.”
“Mr. Flippance?” murmured Will.
“No, no. Her grandfather. Why don’t you go, Caleb?”