"I beg your honour's pardon—I did not know—"
"Never mind; lay the book there. I wish to speak with you. You look well, my child; this air agrees with you as well as that of Hazeldean?"
"Oh yes, sir."
"Yet it is higher ground, more exposed?"
"That can hardly be, sir," said Lenny; "there are many plants grow here which don't flourish at the Squire's. The hill yonder keeps off the east wind, and the place lays to the south."
"Lies, not lays, Lenny. What are the principal complaints in these parts?"
"Eh, sir?"
"I mean what maladies, what diseases?"
"I never beard tell of any, sir, except the rheumatism."
"No low fevers?—no consumption?"