with a joke about brambles. He bores me, he is insufferable."
"I assure you—Mr. Saltren——"
"Excuse my interrupting you. It may or may not be so. I daresay I am hypersensitive, over-suspicious."
"And now, Mr. Saltren, I think Giles is waiting for his psalms and lessons."
"You mean—I have offended you."
"Not at all. I am sorry for you, but I think you are—excuse the word—morbidly sensitive."
"You cannot understand me because you have never been in my land. Baron Munchausen says that in the moon the aristocrats when they want to know about the people send their heads among them, but their trunks and hearts remain at home. The heads go everywhere and return with a report of the wants, thoughts and doings of the common people. You are the same. You send your heads to visit us, to enquire about us, to peep at our ways, and search out our goings, but you do not understand us, because you have not been heart and body down to finger-ends and toes among us, and of us-you cannot enter into our necessities and prejudices and gropings. But I see, I bore you. In the tongue of the Isle of Guava you say to me, Giles wants his psalms and lessons. Which being interpreted means, This man is a bramble sticking to my skirts, following, impeding my movements, a drag, a nuisance. I must get rid of him. I wish you a good morning, Miss Inglett; and holy thoughts under the green-wood tree!"
