“I tell you what it is, granny,” returned Slidder, with a frown, “I’ll give you up an’ ’and you over to the p’leece if you go on comparin’ me to other people in that way.—Now, then, ’ave some muffins. They’re all ’ot and soaked in butter, old Gummy, just the wery thing for your teeth. Fire away, now! Wot’s the use o’ me an’ Dr McTougall fetchin’ you nice things if you won’t eat ’em?”
“But I will eat ’em, Robin, thankfully.”
“That ain’t the way, old ’ooman,” returned the boy, helping himself largely to the viands which he so freely dispensed; “it’s not thankfully, but heartily, you ought to eat ’em.”
“Both, Robin, both.”
“Not at all, granny. We asked a blessin’ fust, now, didn’t we? Vell, then, wot we’ve to do next is to go in and win heartily. Arter that it’s time enough to be thankful.”
“What a boy it is!” responded Mrs Willis.
I saw the withered old hand disappear with a muffin in it in the direction of the old mouth, and at this point I entered.
“The wery man I wanted to see,” exclaimed Slidder, jumping up with what I thought unusual animation, even for him.
“Come along, doctor, just in time for grub. Mrs W hain’t eat up all the muffins yet. Fresh cup an’ saucer; clean plate; ditto knife; no need for a fork; now then, sit down.”
Accepting this hearty invitation, I was soon busy with a muffin, while Mrs Willis gave a slow, elaborate, and graphic account of the sayings and doings of Master Slidder, which account, I need hardly say, was much in his favour, and I am bound to add that he listened to it with pleased solemnity.