Honey
must have been very dear in those parts, Master Jack. However, it's in
the book, so I suppose it's right enough."
I made no defence of the veracity of the _Cyclopaedia_, for I was
thinking of something else, of which, after a few moments, I spoke.
"Isaac, you don't stay with your bees on the moors. Do you ever go to
see them?"
"To be sure I do, Master Jack, nigh every Sunday through the season. I
start after I get back from morning church, and I come home in the dark,
or by moonlight. My missus goes to church in the afternoons, and for
that bit she locks up the house."
"Oh, I wish you'd take me the next time!" said I.
"To be sure I will, and too glad sir, if you're allowed to go."
That _was_ the difficulty, and I knew it. No one who has not lived in a
household of old-fashioned middle-class country folk of our type has any
notion how difficult it is for anybody to do anything unusual therein.
In such a well-fitted but unelastic establishment the dinner-hour, the
carriage horses, hot water, bedtime, candles, the post, the wash-day,
and an extra blanket, from being the ministers of one's comfort, become
the stern arbiters of one's fate.
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