'Mr Roland may be this, or he may be that,' Potters, the village grocer, observed, with the air of one clearly stating a case, 'but he can get his way where he cares to.'
'Tha's fond o' saying words as might mean owt—or nowt, for that matter. Can't tha say what tha does mean?'
'Tha'd know what I mean if tha weren't too blind to see owt. How about Alice Hatfield?'
'Gently, gently,' said Bolt. 'Tha was i' the right, Potters, not to name names, but when it comes to namin' o' names I asks tha where's tha proof?'
Here there was a general 'movement of adhesion,' and an assenting murmur ran round, while the mild man repeated like an echo, 'Where's your proof?'
'Her father don't think ther's proof,' said Sigley.
'A man doesn't want to prove the bread out of his mouth, and the roof off his children.'
'John Hatfield wouldn't work for a man as had ruined his girl.'
'Hungry dogs eat dirty pudding,' remarked Potters.