But Cæsar's emotions were walled in by his pietistical views. “Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or land, for My name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold,” said Cæsar, with a cast of his eye towards Black Tom.
“Well, if I ever!” said Nancy. “The husband that wanted the like of that from me now.... A hundredfold, indeed! No, not for a hundred hundredfolds, the nasty dirt.”
“Don't he turning up your nose, woman, but call your master,” said Cæsar.
“It's more than some ones need do, then, and I won't call my master, neither—no, thank you,” said Nancy.
“I've something to tell him, and I've come, too, for to do it,” said Cæsar.
“The devil came farther than ever you did, and it was only a lie he was bringing for all that,” said Nancy.
“Hould your tongue, Nancy Cain,” said Cæsar, “and take that Popish thing off the child's head.” It was the scarlet hood.
“Pity the money that's wasted on the like wasn't given to the poor.”
“I've heard something the same before, Cæsar Cregeen,” said Nancy. “It was Judas Iscariot was saying it first, and you're just thieving it from a thief.”
“Chut!” cried Cæsar, goaded by the laughter of Black Tom. “I'll call the man myself. Peter Quilliam!” and he made for the staircase door.