"Boy, take up that basket! I want 'ee to go on an errand for me."
The lath-like stripling frowned. "Who be you, then, John
Durbeyfield, to order me about and call me 'boy'? You know my
name as well as I know yours!"
"Do you, do you? That's the secret--that's the secret! Now obey my
orders, and take the message I'm going to charge 'ee wi'... Well,
Fred, I don't mind telling you that the secret is that I'm one of a
noble race--it has been just found out by me this present afternoon,
P.M." And as he made the announcement, Durbeyfield, declining from
his sitting position, luxuriously stretched himself out upon the bank
among the daisies.
The lad stood before Durbeyfield, and contemplated his length from
crown to toe.
"Sir John d'Urberville--that's who I am," continued the prostrate
man. "That is if knights were baronets--which they be. 'Tis
recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad,
as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?"
"Ees. I've been there to Greenhill Fair."
"Well, under the church of that city there lie--"
"'Tisn't a city, the place I mean; leastwise 'twaddn' when I was
there--'twas a little one-eyed, blinking sort o' place."
"Never you mind the place, boy, that's not the question before us.
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