"Ah, but Moll's so soft 'arted. Not less than fifty goldfinches, mind, and if a little hindrance arrives, 'tis to come down to Blackhart Farm--mind--and be cared for by old Mother Mawhood wot's kind even to the pore little flies on the pane."
"You look too far into the future, old lady," said Vernon.
"And so a body should, my fancy boy," the hag answered. "Now I wager you ain't thought nothin' about postillions?"
"Yes, time enough I dare say, but you ought to engage 'em in advance. That's vat the quality does ven they writes to me. Have you got a pair of good honest postboys?"
"Vell! and good honest boys ain't so easy found in Curtain Vells! Boys who'll do vat's vanted and no questions axed and none answered."
"That's all werry fine," said the monstrous old woman. "But p'raps there'll be another elopement. Maids is thick in Curtain Vells, and p'raps you won't find your boys so easy. There's some that don't like the job--don't like two brace of pops behind 'em and a galloping brother and father."
"We shan't be followed," said Vernon contemptuously.
"No, I dare say you von't, but 'tis as vell to be behind a couple of good honest boys as'll use their pops when they're turning a corner and ready to swear they thought it was two gentlemen on the high toby as vas a followin' of 'em so fast."
"Very well," said Vernon, "whom do you want me to employ?"
"Vy, there's my two nephews, Charlie and Dickie Maggs, vot 'ud drive 'ard and fast all the vay to Lunnon town and no questions axed either end, but vot could easily be ansered wiv golden Georges."
"Let 'em wait on me when I send the word, and hark'ee, they must be ready any time this month, for Miss may take it into her head to run before I expect."
Further intercourse between Mr. Francis Vernon and old Mother Mawhood was interrupted by loud knocks on the door at the back, supported by catcalls, yells, horn-blowing and whip-cracking.
"That's for the Main," said Mrs. Mawhood. "Vill you stay to see the sport?"
"Well, send a boy to put my horse in the stable."
"This way, my fancy, this way," wheezed the hag, as she waddled towards the courtyard where the noise was growing louder every minute.
It may strike the reader as strange that the young gentlemen of the _Blue Boar_ (they were all there save Mr. Lovely) should come ten miles to a disreputable farm for the purpose of seeing thirty-two cocks of the game butchered. The Welch Main was a peculiarly bloody form of cock-fighting, as it was determined by a series of rounds fought by the respective survivors until at the end a pair of already vilely scarred and mutilated birds were placed beak to beak by the Feeder to determine the ultimate victor of the Main.