The housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks him if he has heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin' that he is of gentle blood, only the wrong side of the blanket, and that pleases him.

They are both well to do in the world.

Vails count up in time, and they talk big sometimes, when alone together, and hint at warnin' off the old knight, marryin', and settin' up a tripe shop, some o' these days; don't that hint about wedlock bring him a nice little hot supper that night, and don't that little supper bring her a tumbler of nice mulled wine, and don't both on 'em look as knowin' as a boiled codfish, and a shelled oyster, that's all.
"He once got warned himself, did old Thomas, so said he, 'Where do you intend to go master ?' 'Me,' said the old man, scratchin' his head, and lookin' puzzled 'nowhere.' 'Oh, I thought _you_ intend to leave, said Thomas for _I_ don't.' 'Very good that, Thomas, come I like that.' The old knight's got an anecdote by that, and nanny-goats aint picked up every day in the country.

He tells that to every stranger, every stranger larfs, and the two parsons larf, and the old 'Sir' larfs so, he wakes up an old sleepin' cough that most breaks his ribs, and Thomas is set up for a character.
"Well, arter servants is gone, and women folks made themselves scarce, we haul up closer to the table, have more room for legs, and then comes the most interestin' part.

Poor rates, quarter sessions, turnpikes, corn-laws, next assizes, rail-roads and parish matters, with a touch of the horse and dog between primo and secondo genitur, for variety.