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"Oh no, your honour, I didn't mean that; only I wasn't thinking to meet you here, or that you would ride so early at all: for, if you please, sir, I was going to fetch a chicken for your Lordship's breakfast, as my mistress said you would like one; and I thought, instead of going to Farmer Brigg's, down Birmingham way, as she told me, I'd go to Farmer Bird's, where the chickens is better, sir, my Lord, I mean."
At last, more gentle and smiling than ever, she came downstairs and said, "Catherine darling, his honour the Count is mighty hungry this morning, and vows he could pick the wing of a fowl. Run down, child, to Farmer Brigg's and get one: pluck it before you bring it, you know, and we will make his Lordship a pretty breakfast."
"I was thinking that I would like to loaf around Brigg's Brambles for a few days, then go over to Black-bug Swamp for a few days, then drop over to the river for a day or two, or possibly spend a short time at the lake!"
He seemed to be a crank on the water subject, so Peter Brigg's note-book recorded. The book also recorded that this queer Walker Farr strolled about the streets in the poorer quarters, "currying favor": so Peter Briggs expressed the young man's evening activities in the note-book. That seemed to be all there was to it. At any rate, Peter Briggs decided that he had finished his quest.
"I didn't call her no kind!" declared the Colonel. "All I say is, I've been married once already, and I know how women are. And I know Skinner. He's lookin' for to pay for that opery house with Pap Brigg's money that he'll git if he marries Sally. But he won't git it!
"Brigg's Brambles is not a very safe place to take the children there are so many owls and hawks around, and there is such an odor to Black-bug Swamp, and the last time we were over to the river, we saw all those boys shooting with their air guns.
After this we had a second meeting at Brigg's house in Fleet Street, and then a third at Mr. Baynton's; at both of which we had the like conference and resolution as before." Neither of them would think of marrying without "his Majesty's most gracious favor," they declared. This favor could not be granted. The safety of the English crown had to be considered.
As she sat alone on those strange new evenings she did much mental arithmetic, calculating how long, with these reduced expenses, which brought Mrs. Brigg's so low, she could live without earning. Sad sums were these, whether rightly or wrongly worked out. The time must be short. And afterwards? This question drove Cuckoo out in the mornings, vaguely seeking an occupation.
"Money!" she said in a keen treble. "Where are you going to git it?" "Never you mind," said Cuckoo, in a dull voice. She turned from Mrs. Brigg's flooding ejaculations and was gone. In her peregrinations about London she had sometimes encountered in a certain thoroughfare a broad old man with a face marked with small-pox, who wore a fur cap and leggings.
"He may be playing with those Nuthatch boys!" said Mrs. Robin. All the robins kept searching the woods for little Sheldon, but Mister Jim Crow flew over to Brigg's Brambles, and in a very short time he came hurrying back and called to Robert Robin: "Little Sheldon is over in Brigg's Brambles playing I-spy with Billy Nuthatch!"
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