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Updated: May 16, 2025
Brock's age, his red nose, and a certain squint of his eye, vowed the Corporal was a jewel of a man; and among the men his popularity was equally great. "How much dost thee get, Thomas Clodpole?" said Mr. Mr. Clodpole, whose name was really Bullock, stated that his wages amounted to "three shillings and a puddn."
"Or you clean pigsty, and take dung down to meadow; or you act watchdog and tend sheep; or you sweep a scythe over a great field of grass; and when the sun has scorched the eyes out of your head, and sweated the flesh off your bones, and well-nigh fried the soul out of your body, you go home, to what? three shillings a week and a puddn! Do you get pudding every day?" "No; only Sundays."
"Three shillings and a puddn! monstrous! and for this you toil like a galley-slave, as I have seen them in Turkey and America, ay, gentlemen, and in the country of Prester John! You shiver out of bed on icy winter mornings, to break the ice for Ball and Dapple to drink." "Yes, indeed," said the person addressed, who seemed astounded at the extent of the Corporal's information.
Poor Thomas Bullock was another of her admirers, and had offered to marry her; but three shillings a week and a puddn was not to the girl's taste, and Thomas had been scornfully rejected. Hayes had also made her a direct proposal. Catherine did not say no: she was too prudent: but she was young and could wait; she did not care for Mr. Hayes.
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