aristocrats I never met than your people here." His discontented eye rested on Mrs. Tourtel. "That Mrs. Pedvinn is the wife of Pedvinn the Jurat, I suppose?"—"Yes, de Pedvinns of Rohais."—"Good people," said Owen thoughtfully; in with the de Caterelles, and the Dadderney (d'Aldenois) set. "Are there children?"—"Tree."
He took a drink of the spirit and water; his bad temper passed. Margot came in from upstairs.
"De marster sleeps as dough he'd never wake again," she announced, flinging herself into the chair nearest Owen.
"It's bout time he did," Tourtel growled.
"I should have thought it more to your interest to keep him alive?" Owen inquired. "A good place, surely?"
"A good place if you like to call it so," the wife answered him; "but what, if he go to town, as he say to-night? and what, if he send de notary, to put de scelles here?—den he take up again wid Dr. Lelever, dat's certain." And Tourtel added in his surly key, "Anyway, I've been workin here dese tirty years now, an' dat's 'bout enough."
"In fact, when the orange is sucked, you throw away the peel? But are you quite sure it is sucked dry?"
"De house an' de Ian' go to de Pedvinns, an' all de money die too, for de little he had left when young John went crost de seas, he sunk in a nuity. Dere's nuddin but de lining, an plate, an such like, as goes to de son."
"And what he finds of that, I expect, will scarcely add to his impedimenta?" said Owen grinning. He thought, "The old man is well known in the island, the name of his medical attendant would get mentioned in the papers at least; just as well Le Lievre should not have the advertisement." Besides, there were the Poidevins.
