"So I am, mum. This here lettuce is for it, and I just catched what the master said, 'Retired from business!'" She put her hands to her hips. "I'm thinkin' there'll be a power more work to do now two for lunch and two for tea hevery day. And the master, beggin' his pardon, will be makin' more mess with his tobacco ash than ever. It lies about the carpets like bone manure on a flower-bed."
She continued her walk to the house, brandishing the lettuce and squeaking with emotion, without giving us time to reply.
"Amelia is like a jack-in-the-box. She seems to spring from nowhere," said Dimbie depressedly.
"Well, never mind. Go on with what you were saying, and get up from the grass, it's very damp, and you are sitting on a multitude of worm-hills."
"Give me the end of the couch, then. Tuck up your toes. Did you hear what I said? I have retired from business. I have done with the Stock Exchange forever, Marg."
"This then, I suppose, will be our last meal. We have no private means."
"I will feed you on oysters and champagne!"
"Bread-fruit and yams, more likely, on a desert island, where you can obtain food for nothing."
"Marg, I am worth £3,000 a year," he said gravely, and with suppressed eagerness.
I looked at him anxiously.