“Don’t,” said Susan, struggling unsuccessfully to get free. “What d’ye think Mrs Gaff has bin an’ done?”
“Don’t know, my jewel, no more nor a pig as has niver seen the light o’ day,” said Dan.
“She’s bin—and gone—and given—” said Susan, with great deliberation, “one—hundred—gold sovereigns—to the Shipwrecked thingumbob Society!”
“How d’ye know that, darlint?” inquired Dan.
“Master told Miss Lizzie, Miss Lizzie told missis, and missis told me.”
“You don’t say so! Well, I wish I wor the Shipwrecked thing-me-bob Society, I do,” said Dan with a sigh; “but I an’t, so I’ll have to cut my stick, clap spurs to my horse, as the story books say, for Capting Bingley towld me to make haste. But there’s wan thing, Susan, as I wouldn’t guv for twice the sum.”
“An’ what may that be?” asked Susan shyly.
“It’s that,” said Dan, imprinting a kiss on Susan’s lips, to the dismay of Bounder, who chanced to be in the back scullery and heard the smack.
Cook rushed to the kitchen, but when she reached it Dan was gone, and a few minutes later that worthy was cantering toward Seaside Villa, muttering to himself:
“Tin thousand pound! It’s a purty little bit o’ cash. I only wish as a brother o’ mine, (if I had wan), would leave me half as much, an’ I’d buy a coach and six, an’ put purty Susan inside and mount the box meself, an’ drive her to Africay or Noo Zealand, (not to mintion Ottyheity and Kangaroo), by way of a marriage trip! Hey! Bucephalus, be aisy now. It isn’t Master Kenneth that’s on yer back just now, so mind what yer about, or it’ll be wus for ye, old boy.”