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Updated: May 19, 2025
'I reckon you thought you 'ad something against me, and now you've come down an' told it me like man to man. Quite right. I don't bear malice. Now, you send along those bricks an' sand, an' I'll make a do to build the pig-pound myself. If you look at my lease you'll find out you're bound to provide me materials for the repairs.
"God help me, Muster Jennings: why my wages are but eight, and my hovel scarcely better than a pig-pound." "Look you, Acton; tell Sir John what you have told me, and you are a ruined man. Make it twelve to his honour, as others shall do: who knows," he added, half-coaxing, half-soliloquizing, "perhaps his honour may really make it twelve, instead of eight."
Did ye know there was swine fever at Pashell's? There be. It'll 'ave to be in brick. 'Yes, said Midmore politely. 'I've bin at your aunt that was, plenty times about it. I don't say she wasn't a just woman, but she didn't read the lease same way I did. I be used to bein' put upon, but there's no doing any longer 'thout that pig-pound. 'When would you like it? Midmore asked.
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