"Tell us about down pit, daddy."
This Morel loved to do.
"Well, there's one little 'oss—we call 'im Taffy," he would begin. "An' he's a fawce un!"
Morel had a warm way of telling a story. He made one feel Taffy's cunning.
"He's a brown un," he would answer, "an' not very high. Well, he comes i' th' stall wi' a rattle, an' then yo' 'ear 'im sneeze.
"'Ello, Taff,' you say, 'what art sneezin' for? Bin ta'ein' some snuff?'
"An' 'e sneezes again. Then he slives up an' shoves 'is 'ead on yer, that cadin'.
"'What's want, Taff?' yo' say."
"And what does he?" Arthur always asked.