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'I believe, I says, 'that it's that hinfidel and the skinny wirgin a-walkin' together. They goes into the summer-'ouse, and then I creeps down, and gets behind a tree, but close enough to the couple to hear every word. Sure 'nough, sur, I wur right; it was the wirgin Staggles and this 'ere Woltaire. "'They seemed quarrellin' like when I come up, for she wur sayin' "'Tis no use, she never will.
"'Nonsense! says he. 'Give her time, and poison her mind against that Blake, and she'll come around. "'I've done that, says she. 'I've told her that Mr. Blake is a regular male flirt; that he's had dozens of love affairs with girls; and, besides that, I told her that her marked preference for him was being talked about. "'Yes, says Woltaire, 'and see how she's treated him since.
I sees they two willains a-talkin' together, and when that 'ere Woltaire went off by himself, the other took it 'pon him to keep wi' me. I tried to git 'im off, but 'twas no use; he stuck to me like a limpet to a rock." "Perhaps it was all fancy, Simon." "No fancy in me, but a lot o' judgment. Fact, sur, I've begun to think for the fust time as 'ow some things in the Bible ain't true.
"They've bin a-promenadin' together nearly every day since Christmas; and when a feller like that 'ere Woltaire goes a-walkin' with a creature like that hancient wirgin on his arm, then I think there must be somethin' on board." "But this is purely surmise, Simon. There is no reason why Miss Staggles and Mr. Voltaire may not walk together." "There's more than surmise, sur.
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