“You damned fool, to miss such a chance wen I was goin’ to town with the wagonette! I mightn’t be groin’ in again for munce [months]. But sugar don’t count much. Them as can’t do without a useless luxury like that for a spell will never make much of a show at gettin’ on in the wu-r-r-r-ld,” concluded Mr M’Swat, sententiously.
The children sat in a row and, with mouths open and interest in their big wondering eyes, gazed at me unwinkingly till I felt I must rush away somewhere and shriek to relieve the feeling of overstrained hysteria which was overcoming me. I contained myself sufficiently, however, to ask if this was all the family.
“All but Peter. Where’s Peter, Mary Ann?”
“He went to the Red Hill to look after some sheep, and won’t be back till dark.”
“Peter’s growed up,” remarked one little boy, with evident pride in this member of the family.
“Yes; Peter’s twenty-one, and hes a mustatche and shaves,” said the eldest girl, in a manner indicating that she expected me to be struck dumb with surprise.
“She’ll be surprised wen she sees Peter,” said a little girl in an audible whisper.
Mrs M’Swat vouchsafed the information that three had died between Peter and Lizer, and this was how the absent son came to be so much older than his brothers and sisters.
“So you have had twelve children?” I said.
“Yes,” she replied, laughing fatly, as though it were a joke.