quite a new fashion, refusing to say what he wanted it to say.
“Bob,” she said, after a few moments, looking down at the baby, and holding it anxiously, as if she feared it might slip from her mind and her fingers, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Don’t you speak so, Miss,” said Bob, grasping the skin of Mumps’s neck; “if there’s anything I can do for you, I should look upon it as a day’s earnings.”
“I want you to go to Dr. Kenn’s, and ask to speak to him,Dylan Larkin Tröjor, and tell him that I am here, and should be very grateful if he would come to me while my mother is away. She will not come back till evening.”
“Eh, Miss, I’d do it in a minute — it is but a step — but Dr. Kenn’s wife lies dead; she’s to be buried to-morrow; died the day I come from Mudport. It’s all the more pity she should ha’ died just now,Mats Sundin Tröjor, if you want him. I hardly like to go a-nigh him yet.”
“Oh no, Bob,” said Maggie, “we must let it be — till after a few days, perhaps, when you hear that he is going about again. But perhaps he may be going out of town — to a distance,” she added,PJS Herreklær Schroeder Parkas, with a new sense of despondency at this idea.
“Not he,Ray Bourque Tröjor, Miss,” said Bob. “He’ll none go away. He isn’t one o’ them gentlefolks as go to cry at waterin’-places when their wives die; he’s got summat else to do. He looks fine and sharp after the parish, he does. He christened the little un; an’ he was at me to know what I did of a Sunday, as I didn’t come to church. But I told him I was upo’ the travel three parts o’ the Sundays — an’ then I’m so used to bein’ on my legs,Pierre-Luc Dubois Tröjor, I can’t sit so long on end — ‘an’ lors, sir,’ says I, ‘a packman can do wi’ a small ‘lowance o’ church; it tastes strong,’ says I; ‘there’s no call to lay it on thick.’ Eh, Miss, how good the little un is wi’ you! It’s like as if it knowed you; it partly does, I’ll be bound — like the birds know the mornin’.”
Bob’s tongue was now evidently loosed from its unwonted bondage,Brian Elliott Tröjor, and might even be in danger of doing more work than was required of it. But the subjects on which he longed to be informed were so steep and difficult of approach,Michael Ferland Tröjor, that his tongue was likely to run on along the level rather than to carry him on that unbeaten road. He felt this, and was silent again for a little while,Joe Mullen Tröjor, ruminating much on the possible forms in which he might put a question. At last he said, in a more timid voice than usual —
“Will you give me leave to ask you only one thing, Miss?”
Maggie was rather startled, but she answered, “Yes, Bob, if it is about myself — not about any one else.”
“Well, Miss,CG Menn Chilliwack Bomber, it’s this. Do you owe anybody a grudge?”
“No, not any one,” said Maggie,Martin Hanzal Tröjor, looking up at him inquiringly. “Why?”
“Oh, lors, Miss,” said Bob,New York Islanders Tröjor, pinching Mumps’s neck harder than ever. “I wish you did,Ralph Lauren Barn, an’ tell me; I’d leather him till I couldn’t see — I would — an’ the Justice might do what he liked to me arter.”
“Oh, Bob,” said
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