For a moment, all Sam could do was stare in abject, helpless confusion. He couldn't even register what she was trying to say, or why she was talking about dwarves all of a sudden. Dwarves - or anyone - taken as slaves was awful, certain enough, but what did that have to do with Mr. Frodo, or Crickhollow, or any of the rest?

And then it all clicked, and his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"I didn't - that's not - that's not it at all!" he stammered, torn halfway between horror and indignation. He crossed his arms over his chest, temporarily unable to speak, so offended was he on Frodo and Bilbo's behalf. Not only for the assumption that he and the Gaffer weren't fairly paid, but also because she seemed to think that he'd be glad to be rid of his beloved master.

"Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo both were never anything but kindly and fair, I'll have you know," he says stoutly. His jaw juts out in defiance. "And there's nothing I'd like better than to be back there now, where I belong, at Mr. Frodo's side."