“From the country, Mr Bromley—from some kyind old aunt, I warrant me, or, mayhap, a grandmother. Jane!”
“Women are ever thoughtful, lady,” responded Bromley.
Jane entered the room.
“Open the basket, maiden.”
“I knowed as it was full of good things.”
“Pity the poor vulgarian!”
“Ingins, I do declare!” cried the maiden. “My, what fine ingins!”
“The produce of your land, doubtless, Mr Bromley.”
“And sprats—oh my!”
The mouth of Mrs Magens was watering beyond concealment.