Chapter 8.4 - Shirley

I do know that there's much need, for all the body is dry. Thirsty. In the morning," said the Fustian gentleman, rising and doing as requested. "'Will you take not your sun, Mr. Moore?' he inquired, as with a skilled hand he mixed a portion, and having tested it by a deep draught, sank back satisfied and bland in his seat. "'More?' Cherry of words, replied by a negative movement and a murmur. "'Yadda's good,' continued his visitor. "'It'd set ye up. Would a supper this stuff. Uncommon good Hollands. You get it for a foreign parts, I should think. Ay, take my advice, and try a glass-aunt. Them lads, as is coming,'ll keep ye talking nobody knows how long. You'll need propping.' "'Have you seen Mr. Sykes this morning?' inquired Moore. "'I seed him a half an hour, nay, up an a quarter of an hour sin, just afore I set off. He said he aim to come here, and I shouldn't wonder, but ye'll have old Elston, too. I seed him, saddling his little nag as I passed it back at Rectory." The speaker was a true prophet, for the trot of the little nag's hooves were, five minutes after heard in the yard. It stopped, and a well-known nasal voice cried out, "'Boy!' probably addressing Harry Scott, who usually hung about the premises from nine a.m. to five p.m., "'Take my horse,' and laid him into the stable. Elston came in, marching nimbly and erect, looking browner, keener, and livelier than usual. "'Beautiful morning, Moore. How do, my boy?' "'Urgh! Whom have we here?' turning to the personage with the staff. "'Sugden!' "'What? You're going to work directly? Upon my word, you lose no time.'