"Shall we have your story now, Thomas?" said the vicar, when all were duly seated. "You shall, sir; and you must bear with me if I try your patience by my way of telling it. "We'd a very pleasant journey to London, and then took a cab to Dr Prosser's. The door were opened by a boy in green, with buttons all over him; he looked summat like a young volunteer, and summat like a great big doll. I'd seen the like of him in the windows of two or three of the big clothing shops as we drove along. I couldn't help thinking what a convenience them buttons must be; for if he didn't mind you, you could lay hold on him by one of 'em, and if that'd come off there'd be lots more to take to. `Young man,' says I, `is your master at home?' He'd got his chin rather high in the air, and didn't seem best pleased with the way in which I spoke to him. `Who do you mean by my master?' says he. `Dr Prosser,' says I; `I hope he's your master, for certainly you don't seem fit to be your own.' He stares very hard at me, and then he says, `All right.' So I gets out, and sees to Miss Philips and her boxes; and the doctor were very kind, and talked to me about Crossbourne, and so did the missus. She seemed quite a changed woman, so homely-like, and they both looked very happy, and were as kind as could be to poor Lydia, so she took heart at once. "When I were ready to go, I says to Dr Prosser, `Doctor, may I have a word or two with your green boy?' `My what?' says the doctor, laughing. `Your green boy,' says I; `him with the buttons.' `Oh, by all means,' he says; `I hope there's nothing wrong?' `Nothing at all, sir, thank you,' I says.--`Here, William,' says he, `step into the dining-room with this gentleman; he wants to speak to you.'