“Tell Mr Gorman—tell your father, I mean, that his turnips are in great demand, and I can sell all he’s got.”
“I will,” said I.
“Now put in the horse and take your rest, for you must start back betimes in the morning.”
“Plaze, sir,” I ventured to say, “I’d sooner eat than sleep, by your leave.”
“You shall do both,” said he, for he was in great good-humour.
So I got a bite of pork and a scone, and curled myself up in the warm hay and slept like a top.
Before daybreak Mr Callan roused me.
“Make haste now,” said he, “or you’ll not be home by night. And see here, I’ve a message for Mr Gorman.”
“Mr Gorman?” said I, remembering what I had been told.
“You are right, sonnie. You do not know Mr Gorman,” said the tradesman, slapping me on the back and laughing. “If you did know him, I would have bid you tell him that people talk of him here, and say he lacks zeal in a good cause. If lie is resolved to deal in turnips, he must deal in them largely, and not go behind our backs to them that deal in other trades. Mark that.”