“Sweet upon him! Who said I was?”
“Well, nobody as I knows on; but everybody say he be that way about you.”
“I can’t help that; nor people’s tongues, neither. If people would only mind their own business—”
“Ah! if they would, what a happy, comfortable world we’d have o’t! But they woan’t—they woant—dang seize ’em! they woant!”
After giving utterance to this somewhat old-fashioned reflection, Gregory remained for a time in a state of moody silence—as if labouring under some regret which the thought had called up.
“You have some business with father?” said Bet, interrogatively.
“Well—that,” replied Garth, appearing to hesitate about what he was going to say—“that depends. Sartin the old un don’t look much like doin’ business just now—do he?”
“I fear not,” was Bet’s simple reply.
“May be, Mistress Betsey,” continued Garth, giving a glance of scrutiny into the face of the girl. “May be you might do for the business I have on hand—better, maybe, than thy father? I want—”
“What is it you want?” inquired Betsey, too impatient to wait for the words, that were spoken by Garth with some deliberation.