“How should I know?” he cried, recovering himself.
“Some of you chaps at the Bull, eh, Sim? Artful trick, very. Say, Sim, if you want a doctor for your society, remember me. Ck!” This last was to the horse, which went off immediately at a sharp trot, with the springs of the gig dancing up and down, as the wheels went in and out of the ruts.
“Remember you, eh!” said Sim, as the doctor went out of hearing. “Have you for the medical man? Yes, when we want ivery word as is spoke blabbed all over the place. It’s my belief,” continued Sim, sententiously, “as that fat old blobkite tells the last bit o’ news, to every baby as soon as it’s born, and asks them as he’s killed whether they’d like a ride in his gig. Hallo! there’s owd Joe Banks leaning over his fence. What a fierce-looking old maulkin he is; he looks as sour as if he’d been yeating berry pie wi’out sugar. Day, Banks,” he said, stopping.
“Day,” said Joe, shortly, and staring very hard at the visitor.
“I think it’ll rean soon, mun.”
“Do yow?” said Joe, roughly.
“I weer over to Churley yesterday,” said Sim, “and it reant all day.”
“Did it?” said Joe.
“Ay, it did. ’Twas a straange wet day.”
“Where are you going?” said Joe.