“Overworked,” returned Weir. “He’s lost two, ye see, and had to see them both safe over, as I may say, within the same day. He’s got a bad cold, I’m sorry to hear, besides. Have ye heard of him to-day?”
“Yes, yes; he’s badly, and in bed. But that’s not what I mean. There’s summat on his mind,” said Old Rogers.
“Well, I don’t think it’s for you or me to meddle with parson’s mind,” returned Weir.
“I’m not so sure o’ that,” persisted Rogers. “But if I had thought, Mr Weir, as how you would be ready to take me up short for mentionin’ of the thing, I wouldn’t ha’ opened my mouth to you about parson—leastways, in that way, I mean.”
“But what way DO you mean, Old Rogers?”
“Why, about his in’ards, you know.”
“I’m no nearer your meanin’ yet.”
“Well, Mr Weir, you and me’s two old fellows, now—leastways I’m a deal older than you. But that doesn’t signify to what I want to say.”
And here Old Rogers stuck fast—according to Weir’s story.
“It don’t seem easy to say no how, Old Rogers,” said Weir.