"Yes."
The Squire stands aghast—or rather sits, laboring under that sentiment.
"It is the best bread we have had for six months," he says, at length, "and as sweet as a nut."
"You have no taste," says Mr. Rushton.
"No taste?"
"None: and the fact that it is the best you have had for six months is not material testimony. You may have had lead every morning—humph!"
And Mr. Rushton continues his breakfast.
The Squire laughs.
"There you are—in a bad humor," he says.
"I am not."