“That’s a nat’ral death when you die with a doctor,” he maintained.
“And were you there when they died?” said the child after a mournful pause.
His brow clouded obstinately. “How could Oi be, dearie, bein’ as Oi’d taken my Bible oath?”
“You could ha’ gone through the window?”
“With folks lookin’ on and nusses about, as ’ud ha’ thought me loony. Why, ’twas impossible for me even to goo to the funeral.”
“Oh, Gran’fer!”
He looked fiercer, and poor Methusalem got another flick. “Wouldn’t Pegs be there, she havin’ her nat’ral feelin’? Could Oi let her think Oi’d come ’cos Oi was sorry Oi hadn’t made it up with my darter afore she died? Nay, that ’ud a-been right-down deceit, bein’ as there wasn’t no ground for remorse. Happen he’d a-been at the churchyard too with his fish-eye—dedn’t you see the stone he put up, drat his imperence, as ef Emma and Roger was aught of hisn—mebbe he’d a-preached to me as Oi ought to ha’ forgiven my darter time she was still alive. ’Twas on the cards he’d say Oi’d broken your mother’s heart, the blinkin’-fool, he not knowin’ ’twas me as raised her from the dead and had her goffling lobster with your feyther in a scarlet dressin’-gownd time he was knockin’ at her door to make inquirations——”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that,” she interrupted.
“Who told you?” he said suspiciously. “There was only three of us inside the door and two’s dead.”
“You told me.”