Dagley’s words were loud enough to summon his wife to the back-kitchen door⁠—the only entrance ever used, and one always open except in bad weather⁠—and Mr. Brooke, saying soothingly, “Well, well, I’ll speak to your wife⁠—I didn’t mean beating, you know,” turned to walk to the house. But Dagley, only the more inclined to “have his say” with a gentleman who walked away from him, followed at once, with Fag slouching at his heels and sullenly evading some small and probably charitable advances on the part of Monk.

“How do you do, Mrs. Dagley?” said Mr. Brooke, making some haste. “I came to tell you about your boy: I don’t want you to give him the stick, you know.” He was careful to speak quite plainly this time.