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"Your father is too busy discussing politics with Mr. 'Empseed to worry 'isself about you and the kitchen," grumbled Jemima under her breath.
Hempseed, dolefully, as a shower of raindrops fell with a sizzle upon the fire. "Aye! that it do," assented the worth host, "but then what can you 'xpect, Mr. 'Empseed, I says, with sich a government as we've got?" Mr. Hempseed shook his head with an infinity of wisdom, tempered by deeply-rooted mistrust of the British climate and the British Government. "I don't 'xpect nothing, Mr.
"But then hark'ee Mr. 'Empseed," retorted Jellyband, still holding his sides with laughter, "the Scriptures didn't know me. Why, I wouldn't so much as drink a glass of ale with one o' them murderin' Frenchmen, and nothin' 'd make me change my opinions. Why!
'Empseed 'ere will tell you 'ow it is that they just twist some people round their little finger like." "Indeed, and is that so, Mr. Hempseed?" inquired the stranger politely. "Nay, sir!" replied Mr. Hempseed, much irritated, "I dunno as I can give you the information you require."
'Empseed," interrupted Jellyband, with biting sarcasm, "as you're a personal friend of Mr. Pitt, and as you says along with Mr. Fox: 'Let 'em murder! says you." "Pardon me, Mr. Jellyband," feebly protested Mr. Hempseed, "I dunno as I ever did." But Mr. Jellyband had at last succeeded in getting upon his favourite hobby-horse, and had no intention of dismounting in any hurry.
'Empseed," retorted Jellyband, "and as I says, what can you 'xpect? There's all them Frenchy devils over the Channel yonder a-murderin' their king and nobility, and Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke a-fightin' and a-wranglin' between them, if we Englishmen should 'low them to go on in their ungodly way. 'Let 'em murder! says Mr. Pitt. 'Stop 'em! says Mr. Burke."
Hempseed sat there looking dejectedly across the room at the rivulets of moisture which trickled down the window panes. "No," replied Mr. Jellyband, sententiously, "I dunno, Mr. 'Empseed, as I ever did. An' I've been in these parts nigh on sixty years." "Aye! you wouldn't rec'llect the first three years of them sixty, Mr. Jellyband," quietly interposed Mr. Hempseed.
Peppercorn 'e now ups and talks of revolutions, and liberty, and down with the aristocrats, just like Mr. 'Empseed over 'ere!" "Pardon me, Mr. Jellyband," again interposed Mr. Hempseed feebly, "I dunno as I ever did " Mr. Jellyband had appealed to the company in general, who were listening awe-struck and open-mouthed at the recital of Mr. Peppercorn's defalcations.
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