‘And so am I,’ said Mrs. Gardiner, remembering nothing but her blight; ‘I’m thinking of trying tobacco-water and a squiringe.’
‘Is that good for it?’ asked Mr. B., with a tone of doubt and surprise.
‘So they say; but you must mix it strong, and squirt it as hard as ever you can over your affected parts.’
‘What! my lower limbs?’
‘Yes, and your upper ones too. Wherever you are maggoty.’
‘Oh,’ grunted the old gentleman, ‘you mean vermin.’
‘As for me,’ bawled out Mrs. Gardiner, ‘I’m swarming. And Miss Sharp is wus than I am.’
‘The more’s the pity,’ said the old gentleman, ‘we shall have no apples and pears.’
‘No, not to signify. How’s your peaches?’
‘Why, they set kindly enough ma’am, but they all dropped off in the last frosty nights.’