The very mention of this obnoxious institution moved
her bile directly. "A pretty gentleman," said she, "to brew his own beer
and undersell a poor widow that have been here all her days and her
father before her! But the Colonel won't let me be driven out altogether,
no more will Mr. Walter: he do manage for the old gentleman now."
Monckton sipped and waited for the name of Hope, but it did not come.
The good lady deluged him with the things that interested her. She was
to have a bit of a farm added on to the Dun Cow. It was to be grass
land, and not much labor wanted. She couldn't undertake that; was it
likely? But for milking of cows and making butter or cheese, that she
was as good at as here and there one; and if she could have the custom
of the miners for her milk. "But, la, sir," said she, "I'll go bail as
that there Bartley will take and set up a dairy against me, as he have a
beer shop."
"Bartley?" said Monckton, inquiringly.
"Ay, sir; him as owns the mine, and the beer shop, and all, worse
luck for me.
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