“Halloo!” says he, “my dear, here be moore on’t; lookee ’ere.”
“So there is,” answered Lucy; “let’s have a look.” And thus she read:—
“The klover cut out well it made six lode the little rik an four pun nineteen The Squoire ony offered four pun ten so in corse I let Mister Prigg ave un.”
“Well done, Nancy, thee be famous. Now, thic big rik’ll fetch moore’n thic.”
Such cheering intelligence put Mr. Bumpkin in good heart in spite of his witness’s desertion. Joe was a good deal, but he wasn’t money, and if he liked to go for a soger, he must go; but, in Mr. Bumpkin’s judgment, he would very soon be tired of it, and wish himself back at his fireside.
“Now, you must write to Mrs. Bumpkin,” said Lucy.
“Thee’ll write for I, my dear; won’t thee?”
“If you like,” said Lucy. And so, after dinner, when she had changed her dress, she proceeded to write an epistle for Mrs. Bumpkin’s edification. She had carte blanche to put in what she liked, except that the main facts were to be that Joe had gone for a horse soger; that he expected “the case would come on every day;” and that he had the highest opinion of the unquestioned ability of honest Lawyer Prigg.
And now another surprise awaited the patient Bumpkin. As he sat, later in the day, smoking his pipe, in company with Mrs. Oldtimes, two men, somewhat
shabbily dressed, walked into the parlour and ordered refreshment.