"Nay, nay; Joe Chegg." "Joe Chegg!" cried Dally, in a tone of disgust that would have cut the village Jack-of-all-trades to the heart. "Who said anything about Joe Chegg? I was talkin' about young squire." "Eh? About young squire? Well, Dally, well? When's it to be?" "It's going to be soon, gran'fa, or I'll know the reason why; I'm not going to have him playing Miss Leo off against me." "Nay, that I wouldn't, Dally," cried the old man. "She's got to mind, or she may be ill again," cried the girl, with a vindictive look in her eyes. "Ill again! Has she, Dally? Nay, nay, nay, my gel; you mustn't talk like that." "Mustn't I, gran'fa? but I will," cried the girl. "I'm not going to be played with, and if Tom Candlish wants to drink himself into a coffin--" "Eh? What?--what?" cried Moredock, the last word making him prick up his ears. "Nay, nay; don't you talk like that, my gel. He's a young, strong man yet." "I say if Tom Candlish wants to drink himself into his coffin, he may. But he's got to make me Lady Candlish first." "Lady Candlish of the Hall, eh, Dally? Lady Candlish of the Hall? Ay, ay! Let him make you Lady Candlish first, Dally." "Yes, and then he may drink himself into his coffin as soon as he likes." "And I'll bury him, eh, Dally? In the old morslem, eh? And doctor can--" He stopped short with a chuckle, and rubbed his hands. "Yes, the doctor can try and stop him from drinking, for I can't," said Dally acidly. "It's of no use to talk to him." "And you wouldn't break your heart, Dally, if he was to die, would you?" said the old man, with a chuckle. "I should if he was to die now, gran'fa," said the girl; "but when he marries me he can do what he likes." "Ay, when he's married you, Dally, and you've got the Hall and all his money. But, look here, Dally; I want doctor to come and see me and bring me some of his stuff. You go up and tell him he must come--that I say he must come; I want him. Tell him I say he is to come, and that he is to bring some o' that stuff he give me those nights. You say o' those nights, and he'll know. Rare stuff, Dally, as goes right down into your toes. Rare stuff, as sets you up and makes you have a good nap sometimes." Dally looked at the sexton searchingly. "You're not looking well, gran'fa," she said. "Nay, I look well enough, but I do want the doctor a bit." "You see you're a very old man now." "Tchah! stuff! Old? I'm not an old man yet. Lots o' go in me. Man takes care of himself, and he ought to live to two hundred." "Two hundred, gran'fa!" cried the girl, looking at him wonderingly. "Ay. Why not? Look at the paytrarchs, seven and eight and nine hundred. I don't mean to die yet, Dally," he chuckled; "and you'll have a long time to wait if you think you want the bit o' money I've saved up." "Where do you keep that stuff now, gran'fa?" "What stuff?" said the old man. "That stuff you used to keep in the blue bottle in the corner cupboard."