“I’m not!” protested Mr. Lane.
“Oh, yes, you was!” asserted Mr. Dobb. “Why don’t you let a man finish what ’e’s got to say afore you starts to argue? I’m telling you most of this stuff was bought by a chap in several lots to furnish ’is cottage.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Lane.
“There you goes again!” complained Mr. Dobb. “Anyway, ’e’s got a job at the other end of the country now, and—”
Mr. Dobb ceased momentarily, and regarded his boots with a fond smile.
“I ’aven’t ’alf been keeping out a cold!” he observed, confidentially. “Talk about mud and rain and cold winds—’oo’d live in the country, I’d like to know.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Lane, ingratiatingly. “Who would, indeed?”
To this Mr. Dobb made no response, being now engaged in inward thought.
“Who would, indeed?” said Mr. Lane again.
“Eh?” demanded Mr. Dobb, returning to wakefulness.