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last. There is something sadly amiss, Johnny." Mother had upon her wrists something very wonderful, of the nature of fal-lal as we say, and for which she had an inborn turn, being of good draper family, and polished above the yeomanry. Nevertheless I could never bear it, partly because I felt it to be out of place in our good farm-house, partly because I hate frippery, partly because it seemed to me to have nothing to do with father, and partly because I never could tell the reason of my hating it. And yet the poor soul had put them on, not to show her hands off (which were above her station) but simply for her children's sake, because Uncle Ben had given them. But another thing, I never could bear for man or woman to call me, "Johnny," "Jack," or "John," I cared not which; and that was honest enough, and no smallness of me there, I say. "Well, mother, what is the matter, then?" "I am sure you need not be angry, Johnny. I only hope it is nothing to grieve about, instead of being angry. You are very sweet-tempered, I know, John Ridd, and perhaps a little too sweet at times"--here she meant the Snowe girls, and I hanged my head--"but what would you say if the people there"--she never would call them "Doones"--"had gotten your poor Uncle Reuben, horse, and Sunday coat, and all?" "Why, mother, I should be sorry for them. He would set up a shop by the river-side, and come away with all their money." "That all you have to say, John! And my dinner done to a very turn, and the supper all fit to go down, and no worry, only to eat and be done with it! And all the new plates come from Watchett, with the Watchett blue upon them, at the risk of the lives of everybody, and the capias from good Aunt Jane for stuffing a curlew with onion before he begins to get cold, and make a woodcock of him, and the way to turn the flap over in the inside of a roasting pig--" "Well, mother dear, I am very sorry. But let us have our dinner. You know we promised not to wait for him after one o'clock; and you only make us hungry. Everything will be spoiled, mother, and what a pity to think of! After that I will go to seek for him in the thick of the fog, like a needle in a hay-band. That is to say, unless you think"--for she looked very grave about it--"unless you really think, mother, that I ought to go without dinner." "Oh no, John, I never thought that, thank God! Bless Him for my children's appetites; and what is Uncle Ben to them?"
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