But it ain't yourn."
"Don't grumble, Joey."
"O! _I_ don't grumble," returned the Cellarman. "If anything grumbles,
it's what I've took in through the pores; it ain't me. Have a care as
something in you don't begin a grumbling, Master George. Stop here long
enough for the wapours to work, and they'll be at it."
His present occupation consisted of poking his head into the bins, making
measurements and mental calculations, and entering them in a rhinoceros-
hide-looking note-book, like a piece of himself.
"They'll be at it," he resumed, laying the wooden rod that he measured
with across two casks, entering his last calculation, and straightening
his back, "trust 'em! And so you've regularly come into the business,
Master George?"
"Regularly. I hope you don't object, Joey?"
"_I_ don't, bless you. But Wapours objects that you're too young. You're
both on you too young."
"We shall got over that objection day by day, Joey."
"Ay, Master George; but I shall day by day get over the objection that
I'm too old, and so I shan't be capable of seeing much improvement in
you."
The retort so tickled Joey Ladle that he grunted forth a laugh and
delivered it again, grunting forth another laugh after the second edition
of "improvement in you."
"But what's no laughing matter, Master George," he resumed, straightening
his back once more, "is, that young Master Wilding has gone and changed
the luck. Mark my words.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67