And her gay ploughboy.
“Where’s measter?” said a cowboy, addressing himself to the multitude. “Here’s the fiddlers coom, and wants to know whether they may stop or no.”
“Yes, they may stop,” said Nat, in a confident tone. “I’m head man here.”
“You’ve got bit by a barn-mouse already—aint you?” inquired the wood-cutter.
“Or bin to Hatcham Fair and broke both his legs,” said Joe.
“That’ll be first-class if we ha’ a dance, won’t it?” said a young lady, with an elegant motion, which was probably intended for a pirouette.
“Dancin’!” cried Nat, scornfully. “Drat it, what d’ye want to be got at dancin’ for We be very well as we are, and I means to call upon the thatcher for a song, cos he and I allers bin such very partikiller friends.”
“I aint heard your toast as yet,” said the thatcher, “and I’ve been listening for it hard, tew.”
“If you’d listened harder wi them stupid ears, you’d ha’ herd me gi’ it afore ever I sung. Here’s another for ee, you darned deaf adder, ‘Two In and One Out’—d’ye know what that be? It’s in health, in wealth, and out of debt.”
“And a downright good toast too,” said John Ashbrook, who had left the company for a while and had now returned, “and an excellent toast, Nat.”