“It’s the spring,” he said. " "Have it, and welcome," rejoined Figg. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. “I have nothing to say to you. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this: —I've taken a fancy to your bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs.
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