“Yes, sir!” said the landlord snappishly, “go on with our discourse for your edification, I suppose?”
“Well,” said I, “suppose it is for my edification; surely you don’t grudge a stranger a little edification which will cost you nothing?”
“I don’t know that, sir,” said the landlord; “I don’t know that. Really, sir, the kitchen is not the place for a gentleman.”
“Yes, it is,” said I, “provided the parlour smokes. Come, come, I am going to have a glass of whiskey and water; perhaps you will take one with me.”
“Well, sir!” said the landlord, in rather a softened tone, “I have no objection to take a glass with you.”
Two glasses of whiskey and water were presently brought, and the landlord and I drank to each other’s health.
“Is this a sheep district?” said I, after a pause of a minute or two.
“Yes, sir,” said the landlord; “it may to a certain extent be called a sheep district.”
“I suppose the Southdown and Norfolk breeds would not do for these here parts,” said I, with a regular Norfolk whine.
“No, sir, I don’t think they would exactly,” said the landlord, staring at me. “Do you know anything about sheep?”