'EAD-WORK.
Bob Winter is our local carrier. His old grey mare Molly—or a predecessor very like her, driven by Bob's father before him—has jogged into town on market days as long as anyone in the village can remember. The weather-beaten, oft-patched tilt of Bob's cart must have heard in its day generations of village gossip, and a mere inspection of the cargo on the flap which lets down at the back will provide quite an amount of interesting information, such as "whose new housemaid's tin trunk be a-goin' to station already, lookee, and who be a-getten a new tyre to ees bicycle—see."
Now, however, there is a likelihood that Bob may be called up; and the fate of the carrying business hangs in the balance.
"Never mind, Bob," I said (I had overtaken him and old Molly sauntering up the steep hill above the village); "if it comes to that, you know, the women-folk will have to take turns at the carrying while you are away. I believe I should make rather a good carrier."
Bob shook his head and looked evasive.
"No, Miss," he said, "'twuddn' do, 'twuddn' do at all."
"Come," I said, "you don't mean to say Molly would be too much for me?"
"No, Miss, 'tain't Molly, but—well, 'tain't no job for a lady, ain't the carryin'; leastways, not to my way o' thinkin'."
"Oh, but I should get the people at the shops to help me with the heavy things."
Bob cleared his throat loudly and looked more uncomfortable still. Then at last he decided to take the plunge.
"'Tain't the liftin' that do be troublin' I, Miss," he said confidentially, "'tis the 'ead-work. I don't believe there be a wumman livin' could do it. There be a tur'ble lot of 'ead-work in the carryin' business. Why, I do think—think—think mornen till night, till what wi' one thing an' what wi' another thing I'm sure there's times when I don't know if I be on my 'ead or my 'eels. Why, I've seen the time when I've a-comed in and I've a-set down and I've a-said to Missis, 'No, Missis, I don't want no tea; I don't want nothen only to set quiet, for I be just about tired out with that there thinkin'.'
"There be such a sight o' things you do have to remember, lookee. What wi' the grocer, an' what wi' the draper, an' folks's parcels to leave an' folks's parcels to call for, an' picken up here an' setten down there—well, a woman's brain ain't strong enough for it, leastways not to my way o' thinkin'....
"Well, now, if I ain't a-gone an' forgot to call at old Mrs. Pettigrew's for her subscription for to get made up at the chemist's! There, now, Miss, don't that just show how you do 'ave to kip on thinkin' all the time, else you be just about sure to forget somethin' or another? Oh yes, there be a smartish lot of 'ead-work in the carryin' business, an' no mistake!"
An Enviable Post.
From a list of the new Government:—
"Chancellor of the Ducky of Lancaster: Sir Frederick Cawley."—Star (Johannesburg).
"Man, to drive horse and make himself generally useful in nursery."—Provincial Press.
No doubt a rocking-horse.
From a New Zealand diocesan magazine:—
"Owing to the continued illness of the Vicar, which we trust is reaching its last stage, the services of the Church have been conducted by the following," etc.
The Vicar, we understand, thinks this might have been more tactfully worded.
Long-suffering Wife (to amateur politician). "OH, ALL RIGHT. DON'T KEEP 'OLLERIN' AT ME ABOUT THE WAR AND THE GOVER'MENT! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO—LORD DEVUMPORK?"