“Well, sir, not well. I’ve dried this piece by the kitchen fire, and I find it’ll take the paint for a time.”
“Run, dry all the panels at the kitchen fire, and then paint ’em.”
“Thanky’, sir; but, how about the boarding of the floor? The boards’ll warp and start.”
“Look here, Davy, that gentleman who’s at the winder a-smelling to the jessamine is the surveyor and valuer to t’other party. I fancy you’d best go round outside and have a word with him and coax him to pass the boards.”
“Come in!” in a loud voice. Then there entered a man in a cloth coat, with very bushy whiskers. “How d’y’ do, Spargo? What do you want?”
“Well, Mr. Scantlebray, I understand the linney and cow-shed is to be pulled down.”
“So it is, Spargo.”
“Well, sir!” Mr. Spargo drew his sleeve across his mouth. “There’s a lot of very fine oak timber in it—beams, and such like—that I don’t mind buying. As a timber merchant I could find a use for it.”
“Say ten pound.”
“Ten pun’! That’s a long figure!”