Tuesday and Wednesday.
I have been hindered by this wicked woman's watching me so close, from
writing on Tuesday; and so I will put both these days together. I have
been a little turn with her for an airing, in the chariot, and walked
several times in the garden; but have always her at my heels.
Mr. Williams came to see us, and took a walk with us once; and while her
back was just turned, (encouraged by the hint he had before given me,) I
said, Sir, I see two tiles upon that parsley-bed; might not one cover
them with mould, with a note between them, on occasion?--A good hint,
said he; let that sunflower by the back-door of the garden be the place;
I have a key to the door; for it is my nearest way to the town.
So I was forced to begin. O what inventions will necessity push us upon!
I hugged myself at the thought; and she coming to us, he said, as if he
was continuing a discourse we were in: No, not extraordinary pleasant.
What's that? what's that? said Mrs. Jewkes.--Only, said he, the town, I'm
saying, is not very pleasant. No, indeed, said she, it is not; it is a
poor town, to my thinking. Are there any gentry in it? said I. And so
we chatted on about the town, to deceive her. But my deceit intended no
hurt to any body.
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