'Well, Springey,' said he, 'I was just asking your wife after the new
babby.'
'Oh, thank you, my lord,' replied Springey, with a shake of his curly head;
'thank you, my lord; no new babbies, my lord, with wheat below forty, my
lord.'
'Well, but you've got a pair of new boots, at all events,' observed his
lordship, eyeing Springwheat's refractory calves bagging over the tops of
them.
''Deed have I!' replied Springwheat; 'and a pair of uncommon awkward tight
customers they are,' added he, trying to move his feet about in them.
'Ah! you should always have a chap to wear your boots a few times before
you put them on yourself,' observed his lordship. 'I never have a pair of
tight uns,' added he; 'Jack here always does the needful by mine.'
'That's all very well for lords,' replied Mr. Springwheat; 'but us farmers
wear out our boots fast enough ourselves, without anybody to help us.'
'Well, but I s'pose we may as well fall to,' observed his lordship, casting
his eye upon the well-garnished table. 'All these good things are meant to
eat, I s'pose,' added he: 'cakes, and sweets, and jellies without end: and
as to your sideboard,' said he, turning round and looking at it, 'it's a
match for any Lord Mayor's.
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