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Updated: May 27, 2025
But then, owd Jimmy's as good as master here, and if you go flying in his face you may just as well fly over the garden wall same time. I've done, missus. I don't say who done it, but it's my belief John Grange was put out o' the way." "Oh, don't, Tummus; you give me the creeps." "All right, all right, I've done. It's a rum world, and everything goes wrong in it." "Not quite everything, dear."
Then he considered for a bit as to whether he should tell John Grange what he had seen; but he concluded that he would not, for it would only make the poor fellow miserable if he believed him. Old Tummus was still considering as to the best course when the two o'clock bell rang, and he jumped up to go back to his work.
Mrs Mostyn for answer pointed to the gate. "Go," she said quietly, "you do not know what you are saying. When you are ready to apologise to Mr Barnett for what you have said, come to me. Till then you had better stay away from the grounds." Old Tummus raised the mellow pear, which he still held in his pocket, dashed it with all his might upon the ground, and then stumped away with head erect.
"Sit down, and don't talk such stuff, Tummus," cried the old woman, giving him a push which sent him back in his chair. "I won't have it." "Ah! That's it," he said, with a low, chuckling laugh; "it's because the world's round. If it had been square we should all have stood solid, and old women wouldn't ha' flown at their mesters and knocked 'em down."
I want you' to hold your tongues, now, and to let this sad business die a natural death. You understand?" "Oh yes, sir." "Chatter grows into bad news sometimes. There, good-evening. I dare say you'll hear news about the poor fellow some day." "Nay, we wean't," said old Tummus, when the bailiff was gone.
"That ain't saying much, old man," said one of the gardeners; "why, you go crawling over the ground like a rip-hook out for a walk." "Ah, never mind," grumbled old Tummus, "perhaps if you'd bent down to your work as I have, you'd be as much warped. Don't you get leaving tools and barrers and garden-rollers all over the place now." "Why not?"
"Burr-urr!" growled old Tummus, who was devouring his late meal a meat tea, the solid part consisting of a great hunch of bread and upon it a large piece of cold boiled, streaky, salt pork. "Don't make noises like that at the table, Tummus," said his wife. "What will Mr Grange think of you?" "Only said `Burr-urr!" grumbled old Tummus.
"There, don't be a fool, man," said Ellis, clapping him on the shoulder. "Have patience. My Pol Mary is as dear and good a girl as ever stepped, and as dutiful. What we saw was all sentiment and emotion. She's very young, and every day she'll be growing wiser and more full of commonplace sense. Poor John Grange has gone." "But he has come back, and is staying with old Tummus."
There, however, stood the Squire of Pulwick, "Sir Tummus" himself, in portly and jovial importance.
"There is no water near," said James Ellis, as if to himself, but old Tummus's ears were sharp enough. "There's the river." "Two miles away, Tummus." "What's two miles to a man who wants to drownd hissen! Why, if I wanted to mak' a hole in the watter I'd walk twenty." "Tummus, I will not have you say such dreadful things."
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