“Oh, do turn round, John,” begged Mrs. Peerybingle. “Please!”
“It’ll be time enough to do that,” said John, “when I begin to leave things behind me. The basket’s here safe enough.”
“What a hard-hearted monster you must be, John, not to have said so at once, and saved me such a turn! I declare I wouldn’t go to Bertha’s without the veal-and-ham-pie and things for any money. Regularly, once a fortnight, ever since we have been married we have had our little picnic. If anything were to go wrong with it, I should almost think we were never to be lucky again.”
“It was a kind thought in the first place,” said the carrier, “and I honor you for it, little woman.”
“My dear John,” replied Dot, turning very red, “don’t talk about honoring me. Good gracious!”
“By-the-bye—” observed the carrier, “that old gentleman——”
Dot looked embarrassed.
“He’s an odd fish,” said the carrier. “I can’t make him out. I don’t believe there’s any harm in him, though.”
“None at all. I’m—I’m sure there’s none at all.”