It was filled with Orleans
plums, of which he was eating with uncommon satisfaction. Liking
variations of flavour in fruit, he occasionally diversified the plums
with a sour codlin apple, a dozen or so of which he had stowed away in
his trousers' pockets. Bob stood at a respectful distance, his eyes
wandering to the tempting collation, and his mouth watering. Amongst the
apples Master Cheese had come upon one three parts eaten away by the
grubs, and this he benevolently threw to Bob. Bob had disposed of it,
and was now vainly longing for more.
"What did Bitterworth's man want?" inquired Jan of Master Cheese.
"The missis is took bad again, he says," responded that gentleman, as
distinctly as he could speak for the apples and the plums: "croup, or
something. Not as violent as it was before. Can wait."
"You had better go up at once," was Jan's reply.
Master Cheese was taken aback. "_I_ go up!" he repeated, pulling a face
as long as his arm. "All that way! I had to go to Baker's and to Flint's
between dinner and tea."
"And to how many Bakers and Flints do I have to go between dinner and
tea?" retorted Jan.
Pages:
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893