"My DEAR child!" he said.

He looked at it very thoughtfully.

"The last glass of milk I had, Nellie, was when I was Pip's age,
and was Barlow's fag at Rugby. It made me ill, and I have never
touched it since."

"But this won't hurt you. You will drink this?" She gave him one
of her most beautiful looks.

"I would as soon drink the water the maids wash up in, my child."
He took a mulberry, ate it, and made a wry face. "They're not,
fit to eat."

"After you've eaten about six you don't notice they're sour,"
she said eagerly. But he pushed them away.

"I'll take your word for it." Then he looked at her curiously.
"What made you think of bringing me anything, Nellie? I don't
ever remember you doing so before."

"I thought you might be hungry writing here so long," she said
gently; and Pip choked again badly, and she withdrew.

Outside in the blazing sunshine Judy was mowing the lawn.

They only kept one man, and, as his time was so taken up with the
horses and stable work generally, the garden was allowed to fall