“So, if what you think a boy comes, you may assume that that’s the girl.”
“The pretty cretur!” exclaimed Elias. “Fifty pounds! Bless her.”
The magistrate then reflected a moment, and not recollecting anything else that it was necessary to impress upon the sensitive mind of Elias, he was turning away from the door, when that gentleman himself suddenly thought of something of the very greatest importance in his eyes.
“Your worship,” he said, “my victuals—my victuals, your worship.”
“What?” said Sir Francis.
“Am I to be starved, your worship? How am I to get my victuals?”
Sir Francis smiled, as he replied,—
“I should not have forgotten you. You must do the best you can till sunset, when I will send Stephy to you with plenty to last you.”
“Well,” exclaimed Elias, “it is a mercy that I tucked in a tolerable breakfast.”
Sir Francis now left the house with his other companions, and Elias, who was remarkable for his size and great personal strength, closed the door, and began to bethink how he should amuse the leisure hours until sunset, when the welcome provisions should arrive; after which time he did not contemplate that the time would hang at all heavily upon his hands.