“ I should think not,” rejoins Mr. Bucket. “What could you have on your mind, you know! And have these pets got anything on their minds, eh? Not they, but they’ll be upon the minds of some of the young fellows, some of these days, and make ’em precious low-spirited. I ain’t much of a prophet, but I can tell you that, ma’am.”
Mrs. Bagnet, quite charmed, hopes Mr. Bucket has a family of his own.
“There, ma’am!” says Mr. Bucket. “Would you believe it? No, I haven’t. My wife and a lodger constitute my family. Mrs. Bucket is as fond of children as myself and as wishful to have ’em, but no. So it is. Worldly goods are divided unequally, and man must not repine. What a very nice backyard, ma’am! Any way out of that yard, now?”
There is no way out of that yard.
“Ain’t there really?” says Mr. Bucket. “I should have thought there might have been. Well, I don’t know as I ever saw a backyard that took my fancy more. Would you allow me to look at it? Thank you. No, I see there’s no way out. But what a very good-proportioned yard it is!”
Having cast his sharp eye all about it, Mr. Bucket returns to his chair next his friend Mr. George and pats Mr. George affectionately on the shoulder.
“How are your spirits now, George?”
“All right now,” returns the trooper.
“That’s your sort!” says Mr. Bucket. “Why should you ever have been otherwise? A man of your fine figure and constitution has no right to be out of spirits. That ain’t a chest to be out of spirits, is it, ma’am? And you haven’t got anything on your mind, you know, George; what could you have on your mind!”