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Updated: June 2, 2025
"We ain't doin' nothin', Josey!" said Buggins, almost timidly. "Nor we ain't sayin' nothin'," added Bainton. "We be as harmless as doves," put in Adam Frost with a sly chuckle; "and we ain't no match for sarpints!" "Ain't you looking well, Mr. Letherbarrow!" ejaculated the smartly dressed barmaid; "Just wonderful for your time of life!" "My time o' life?"
He turned to go, then suddenly bethought himself of other gardening matters, "Bainton, that bare corner near the house must be filled with clematis. The plants are just ready to bed out. And look to the geraniums in the front border. By the way, do you see that straight line along the wall there, where I am pointing?"
But as Bainton remained immovable and apparently rooted to the ground, and as it was likely that there he would remain till positively told to go, his master made a virtue of necessity, and throwing down his pen, went to the window. Bainton thereupon advanced a little, but stopped again as though irresolute.
Charles Danvers of Bainton, in the County of Wilts, Esq. This Mr. Danvers, having known him long, and familiarly, did so much affect him, that he often and publicly declared a desire, that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine daughters, for he had so many, but rather his daughter Jane than any other, because Jane was his beloved daughter. And he had often said the same to Mr.
Passon, a bit o' Latin do go down wi' some folks in the gard'nin' line it do reely now!" "Talking of Sir Morton Pippitt," said Walden, disregarding his gardener's garrulity, "It seems he has visitors up at the Hall." "'E 'as so," returned Bainton; "Reg'ler weedy waifs an' strays o' 'umanity, if one may go by out'ard appearance; not a single firm, well-put-down leg among 'em.
His first burst of enthusiasm over, he was somewhat dazed, and a little uncertain as to how he should next proceed with his mission, "Tell 'er as 'ow the Five Sisters be chalked;" growled Bainton in an undertone. But Josey's mind had gone wandering far afield, groping amid memories of the past, and his aged eyes were fixed on Maryllia with a strange look of wonder and remembrance commingled.
"Oh, you know best, Tom," replied his buxom partner, setting a flat Dutch cheese before him and a jug of foaming beer; "There ain't no sense o' fitness in ME, bein' a woman! You know best!" Bainton lowered his eyes sheepishly. As usual his better half had closed the argument unanswerably. Seldom in the placid course of years had St.
Bainton and Nebbie were left sole masters of the rectory and its garden, and both man and dog were depressed in spirits, and more or less restless and discontented.
"The train must ha' been poonctual," went on Bainton, staring stolidly at the shining water. "Amazin' poonctual for once in its life. For a one 'oss fly, goin' at a one 'oss fly pace, 'as jes' passed through the village, and is jiggitin' up to the Manor this very minute. I s'pose Miss Vancourt's inside it." Walden paused, punt-pole in hand. "Yes, I suppose she is," he rejoined.
With another friendly pat on the groom's shoulder, and a cheery smile, Bainton passed out, and left the rest of the company in the 'Mother Huff' tap-room solemnly gazing upon one another. "He speaks straight, he do," said Farmer Thorpe, "An' he ain't no canter, he's just plain Tummas, an' wot he sez he means."
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