perhaps some slight suspicion of irregular behaviour up in London might be whispered by the Bungay ladies among themselves, still the feeling in favour of Mr Crumb was so general, and his constancy was so popular, that the grandfather could not stand against it.  ’I don’t see why I ain’t to do as I likes with my own,’ he said to Joe Mixet, the baker, who went out to Sheep’s Acre Farm as one of many deputations sent by the municipality of Bungay.

‘She’s your own flesh and blood, Mr Ruggles,’ said the baker.

’No; she ain’t;—­no more than she’s a Pipkin.  She’s taken up with Mrs Pipkin jist because I hate the Pipkinses.  Let Mrs Pipkin give ’em a breakfast.&rsquo...