The labourer searched his mind for a colloquial stone with which to smite his foe. He found one.
"Ye don't look too respectable."
"You deserve a reward for your perspicacity," said the stranger, much amused--and the labourer, at the unfamiliar word, started again--"if not for your civility. You have a keener scent than our friend--I beg your pardon once more--than Mr. Weston."
"Well, take care, then. He be a justice."
"A little one or a big one, my man? A frog or an ox? For there are justices and justices."
"A big un. Take care!" This iteration appeared to assuage his thirst.
"Custos rotulorum, eh?"
"'A thought you was no good--cussin' and swearin'. 'A've a good mind----"
"I hope so, I'm sure. May it long remain uncontaminated!"
"'A've a good mind to go and tell en."