[Getabspath-users] touch his wife on a tender spot. Nor did Polly herself

[Broege <omn...@th...>]

G to earn a living at market-gardening. So he had to be encouraged. The
Chinaman jog-trotted towards them, his baskets a-sway, his mouth
stretched to a friendly grin. "You no want cabbagee to-day? Me got velly
good cabbagee," he said persuasively and lowered his pole. "No thank
you, John, not to-day. Me wait for white man." "Me bling pleasant for
lilly missee," said the Chow; and unknotting a dirty nosecloth, he drew
from it an ancient lump of candied ginger. "Lilly missee eatee him ...
oh, yum, yum! Velly good. My word!" But Chinamen to Trotty were fearsome
bogies, corresponding to the swart-faced, white-eyed chimney-sweeps of
the English nursery. She hid behind her aunt, holding fast to the
latter's skirts, and only stealing an occasional peep from one
saucer-like blue eye. "Thank you, John. Me takee chowchow for lilly
missee," said Polly, who had experience in disposing of such savoury
morsels. "You no buy cabbagee to-day?" repeated Ah Sing, with the
catlike persistence of his race. And as Polly, with equal firmness and
good-humour, again shook her head, he shouldered his pole and departed
at a half-run, crooning as he went. Meanwhile at the bottom of the road
another figure had come into view. It was not Devine in his spring-cart;
it was some one on horseback, was a lady, in a holland habit. The horse,
a piebald, advanced at a sober pace, and--"Why, good gracious! I believe
she's coming here." At the first of the three houses the rider had
dismounted, and knocked at the door with the butt of her whip. After a
word with the woman who opened, she threw her riding-skirt over one arm,
put the other through the bridle, and was now making straight for them.
As she drew