“Known all over the Hundred,” said Elijah complacently. “Ay, and they’re hearing of my success at Colchester, too, where I come from.”
“Cowchester!” The old man sprang up. “That’s it—the man as married Annie! But that ain’t you—he had more hair to him.”
“Perhaps it was my father,” said Elijah, flushing.
“Nay, nay. Annie couldn’t have a son your soize,” the Gaffer pondered.
“My mother’s name is Annie,” said Elijah.
A strange fire crept into the old patriarch’s eyes. “A big-boned mawther of a girl, tall as the rod her father lit the lamps with, long raven hair and eyes as black as sloes, and a wunnerful fine buzzom,” he said with slow voluptuousness. “Your mother ain’t like that?”
“No,” admitted Elijah.
Daniel Quarles heaved a sigh. “Oi thought not, or you’d be more of a beauty.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” retorted Elijah. “For I’ve heard that my grandfather did use to light the lamps in Chipstone, and it’s a great shame the way my brothers and sisters all dump her on me to keep.”
The old man seized him suddenly by the coat-lapels. “She’s back in Chipstone?”