They are some of my best tenants, and they won't like it when they hear of it.

And I'll go round the young pheasants.

(Doll did this, or something similar, every Sunday afternoon of his life, but he always rehearsed it comfortably in thought on Sunday mornings.) And if Withers is about I'll go out in the boat--the big one, the little one leaks--and set a trimmer or two for to-morrow.

I'm not sure I'll set one under the south bank, for there was the devil to pay last time, when that beast of an eel got among the roots.

I'll ask Withers what he thinks.