Now, where's my quiet Mouse? Chattering's the sin of my
time of life, and there's half the building to do yet, if the cold
don't freeze us first, or the wind don't blow us away, or the
darkness don't swallow us up."
The quiet Mouse had brought her calm face to his side, and silently
taken his arm, before he finished speaking.
"Come away, my dear," said the old man. "Mr. Redlaw won't settle
to his dinner, otherwise, till it's cold as the winter. I hope
you'll excuse me rambling on, sir, and I wish you good night, and,
once again, a merry - "
"Stay!" said Mr. Redlaw, resuming his place at the table, more, it
would have seemed from his manner, to reassure the old keeper, than
in any remembrance of his own appetite. "Spare me another moment,
Philip. William, you were going to tell me something to your
excellent wife's honour. It will not be disagreeable to her to
hear you praise her. What was it?"
"Why, that's where it is, you see, sir," returned Mr. William
Swidger, looking towards his wife in considerable embarrassment.
"Mrs. William's got her eye upon me."
"But you're not afraid of Mrs. William's eye?"
"Why, no, sir," returned Mr. Swidger, "that's what I say myself.
It wasn't made to be afraid of. It wouldn't have been made so
mild, if that was the intention.
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