At that moment John returned to the room, to see how we were getting on, and to count his forks and spoons, for I saw the fellow actually doing it. My uncle, somewhat indiscreetly, I fancied, but by merely following the chain of thought then uppermost in his mind, detained him in conversation.
"Dis broperty," he said, inquiringly, "is de broperty of one Yeneral Littlepage, I hears say?"
"Not of the General, who was Madam Littlepage's husband, and who has long been dead, but of his grandson, Mr. Hugh."
"Und vhere might he be, dis Mr. Hugh?—might he be at hand, or might he not?"
"No; he's in Europe; that is to say, in Hengland." John thought England covered most of Europe, though he had long gotten over his wish to return. "Mr. Hugh and Mr. Roger be both habsent from the country, just now."
"Dat ist unfortunate, for dey dells me dere might be moch troobles here abouts, and Injin-acting."
"There is, indeed; and a wicked thing it is, that there should be anything of the sort."
"Und vhat might be der reason of so moch troobles?—and vhere ist der blame?"
"Well, that is pretty plain, I fancy," returned John, who, in consequence of being a favoured servant at head-quarters, fancied himself a sort of cabinet minister, and had much pleasure in letting his knowledge be seen. "The tenants on this estate wants to be landlords; and as they can't be so, so long as Mr. Hugh lives and won't let 'em, why they just tries all sorts of schemes and plans to frighten people out of their property. I never go down to the village but I has a talk with some of them, and that in a way that might do them some good, if anything can."
"Und vhat dost you say?—und vid whom dost you talk, as might do dem moch goot?"