“Na, na; na, na,” he said, very earnestly. “I like you fine; we’ll agree fine yet; and for the honour of the house I couldna let you leave the way ye came. Bide here quiet, there’s a good lad; just you bide here quiet a bittie, and ye’ll find that we agree.”
“Well, sir,” said I, after I had thought the matter out in silence, “I’ll stay a while. It’s more just I should be helped by my own blood than strangers; and if we don’t agree, I’ll do my best it shall be through no fault of mine.”
[1] Moistens.
[2] Dark as the pit.
[3] Sold up.