“Nothing so interesting; he’s only a rag-and-bone man.”
Marmaduke said nothing, but his nose uttered such an unmistakable pshaw! that Nelly, in spite of herself, burst out laughing.
“What the deuce can make him cultivate such company?” he exclaimed, appealing to Nelly, and joining good-humoredly in her merriment.
“To help them and do them good; what else?” she replied.
“Every man to his taste; I confess I have none for evangelizing rag-and-bone men, or indeed men of any station, kind, or degree,” observed Marmaduke emphatically.
“Then you won’t go?” said Stephen.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I don’t mind devoting myself for once to oblige you. What’s your message for John Baines? Not a leg of mutton or a bottle of port? I won’t bargain for carrying that sort of article.”
“I don’t want you to carry anything that will encumber you,” replied the elder brother. “Tell him I cannot get to see him to-day, and why, and that I am very sorry for it. Meantime, you can say I have done his commission. See if he wants anything, and, if so I will send it at once.”
“What ails him?” enquired Marmaduke with a sudden look of alarm.
“Poverty: hunger, and cold, and misery.”