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Updated: May 27, 2025
Why, if you get a fine day you never can count upon another." "No," sighed Hannah; "but there's a deal of good in the world, after all." "Eh? What?" cried old Tummus, jumping up and standing upon the patchwork hearthrug in his stockings, "wheerabouts? wheer is it, owd woman? I'm a-going to look for it 'fore I gets a day owder."
The cavalcade approached rapidly. As the first carriage drew nearer Bulger became more and more excited, and when it dashed past the inn he raised his hook and shouted "Hurray! hurray!" with the full force of his lungs. "Give 'em a cheer, Tummus," he cried. "Hee haw will do if you knows no better. Hurray for Major Desmond Burke and his madam the purtiest gal I ever did see, east or west.
Bulger," said Tummus, the tranter, "what fur do you go fur to miscall me like other fowk? I've been miscalled ever since that day I drove a stranger into Market Drayton six year ago. I mind me he had a red feather in his cap, and not knowing my name was plain Tummus, he called me Jehu, he did, and I never forgot it. Ay, and I tell ya what, Mr.
Old Tummus and his wife both declared that they minded what the bailiff said, and never let a word escape from them about the old man's suspicions; but rumour is a sad spreader of news, and the result of some bit of tittle-tattle turns up in places least expected, doing incalculable harm.
"Hold your tongue, Tummus, and don't talk so much nonsense," said his wife. "Nay, I arn't going to be choked. I s'pose Mrs Mostyn sends you jellies and chicken-broth, and the like?" "Yes, every one is very kind," said Grange. "But look here, have you seen to the mushroom bed?" "Aye." "And those cuttings in the frames?" "You mak' haste and get well, Master John, and don't you worry about nowt.
Now there was a fine old pyramid pear-tree not far from the green walk, and while hoeing away at the weeds that morning, where the rich soil made them disposed to grow rampant, old Tummus came upon "the very moral" of the pear his old woman would like.
Ponto was in the garden too, and as limp as her daughters; in a faded bandeau of hair, in a battered bonnet, in a holland pinafore, in pattens, on a broken chair, snipping leaves off a vine. Mrs. Ponto measures many yards about in an evening. Ye heavens! what a guy she is in that skeleton morning-costume! Besides Stripes, they keep a boy called Thomas or Tummus.
It was clear that he must be the singer, for Job Grinsell had a voice like a saw, and Tummus Biles knew no music save the squeak of his cartwheels. It surprised Desmond to find the stranger already on the most friendly, to all appearance, indeed, confidential terms with the landlord. "Hale, did you say?" he heard Grinsell ask.
Then came a sharp little encounter, one bright September day in the garden, where, after his wont, old Tummus had been to what he called "torment them there weeds," to wit, chopping and tearing them up with his hoe, and leaving them to shrink and die.
He's afraid. Ha-ha-ha! Well, well! I did think he had some pluck." "Perhaps I have pluck enough," said the young man, "even if it is an awkward job, but I don't see why I'm to be bullied into doing your work." "I thought so," continued Barnett, "white feather! Talk away, John, you can't hide it now." Old Tummus showed his yellow stumps. "He can't do it, Mr Dan," he chuckled.
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