Now your mind's at ease, father.'
'With a milintary air, too!' said Mr Willet, surveying him from top to
toe; 'with a swaggering, fire-eating, biling-water drinking sort of way
with him! And what do you mean by pulling up the crocuses and snowdrops,
eh sir?'
'It's only a little nosegay,' said Joe, reddening. 'There's no harm in
that, I hope?'
'You're a boy of business, you are, sir!' said Mr Willet, disdainfully,
'to go supposing that wintners care for nosegays.'
'I don't suppose anything of the kind,' returned Joe. 'Let them keep
their red noses for bottles and tankards. These are going to Mr Varden's
house.'
'And do you suppose HE minds such things as crocuses?' demanded John.
'I don't know, and to say the truth, I don't care,' said Joe. 'Come,
father, give me the money, and in the name of patience let me go.'
'There it is, sir,' replied John; 'and take care of it; and mind you
don't make too much haste back, but give the mare a long rest.--Do you
mind?'
'Ay, I mind,' returned Joe. 'She'll need it, Heaven knows.'
'And don't you score up too much at the Black Lion,' said John. 'Mind
that too.'
'Then why don't you let me have some money of my own?' retorted Joe,
sorrowfully; 'why don't you, father? What do you send me into London
for, giving me only the right to call for my dinner at the Black Lion,
which you're to pay for next time you go, as if I was not to be trusted
with a few shillings? Why do you use me like this? It's not right of
you.
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