Fogo, as if the ball of
conversation now lay in that gentleman's hands.
"What do 'ee think o' this 'ere Notice?" broke in Caleb.
Paul twitched his yellow bandanna and smiled evasively.
"'Tes very pretty writin', sir, sure-ly," he replied, addressing Mr.
Fogo. "Nice thick down-strokes, an' all as it shou'd be."
"Uncommon fash'nubble et makes the beach look, sir, a'ready," added
Peter.
Some mental reservation seemed to lurk behind this criticism.
Mr. Fogo looked dubiously from the Twins to Caleb, who stood with his
eyes fixed on his handiwork.
"Axin' your pard'n, sir, an' makin' so free as to mention et," began
Peter at length, pulling off his hat and twirling the brim between
his fingers, "but us was a bit taken aback, not understandin' as
fash'nubbleness was to begin so smart; or us wou'dn't have
introoded--spesh'ly Tamsin. Tamsin was thinkin' this mornin' as a
pound of fresh butter might be acceptable to the gentl'm'n down at
Kit's House, wi' ha'f a dozen fresh eggs or so, 'cos her Minorcy hen
began to lay agen last week, an' the spickaty Hamburg as allays lays
double yolks; an' Paul an' me agreed you wudn' be above acceptin' a
little present o' this natur', not seemin' proud, an' Tamsin shou'd
bring et hersel', the eggs bein' hers in a manner o' speakin'.
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