“Is it a dog bite that's working on him?” thought Nancy.
“Speaking!” cried Philip, “of course I'm speaking. I've come in to do it, Mr. Cregeen—I've come in to speak for Pete. He's fond of your daughter, Cæsar, and wants your good-will to marry her.”
“Lord-a-massy!” cried Nancy Joe.
“Dear heart alive!” muttered Grannie.
“Peter Quilliam!” said Cæsar, “did you say Peter?”
“I did, Mr. Cregeen, Peter Quilliam,” said Philip stoutly, “my friend Pete, a rough fellow, perhaps, and without much education, but the best-hearted lad in the island. Come now, Cæsar, say the word, sir, and make the young people happy.”
He almost foundered over that last word, but Cæsar kept him up with a searching look.
“Why, I picked him out of the streets, as you might say,” said Cæsar.
“So you did, Mr. Cregeen, so you did. I always thought you were a discerning man, Cæsar. What do you say, Grannie? It's Cæsar for knowing a deserving lad when he sees one, eh?”
He gave another round of his cunning winks, and Grannie replied, “Aw, well, it's nothing against either of them anyway.”