'How can I be the subject of their quarrels?' I said, listlessly
enough, for I scarcely at first followed his words.
'How? Ain't you a chap?'
'Undoubtedly, Panuel, I am a chap.'
'When women quarrels there's allus a chap somewheres about, in course
there is. But look ye here, Mr. Aylwin, the fault ain't Sinfi's, not
a bit of it. It's Videy's, wi' her dog-in-the-manger ways. She's a
back-bred un,' he said, giving me a knowing wink as he pulled off his
calf-skin waistcoat and tossed it on to a chair at the further end of
the room with a certainty of aim that would have been marvellous,
even had he been entirely free from market-merriness.
I had before observed that Panuel when market-merry always designated
Videy the 'back-bred un, that took a'ter Shuri's blazin' ole dad!'
When sober his views of heredity changed; the 'back-bred un' was
Sinfi.
After breakfast next morning it was agreed that Panuel and Videy
should walk to the Place to see that everything was going on well,
while Sinfi and I should remain in the bungalow. I observed from the
distance that Videy had loitered behind her father on the Capel Curig
road.
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