“Turned thee out, and took thy name off the plan for comin’ to see me.”
“Well, of all the unneighbourly things as iver I heerd!” exclaimed Sim. “To go and talk that clat to a straanger.”
“Outer kindness to him,” said the landlord. “It was a kind o’ hint, and he took it, for I was thinking of his bishop, and he took it direckly, for he says, says he, ‘Well, I hope I shan’t hev my name took off my plan for coming to see you, Mr Robinson,’ he says. ‘I hope not, sir,’ I says. ‘Perhaps you’ll take a glass o’ wine, sir,’ I says. ‘No, Mr Robinson,’ he says, ‘I’ll take a glass—gill you call it—o’ your ale.’ And if he didn’t sit wi’ me for a good hour, and drink three gills o’ ale and smoke three pipes wi’ me, same as you might, ony he talked more sensible.”
“Well, he’s a pretty parson, he is,” sneered Sim.
“You let him be; he ain’t a bad sort at all,” said the landlord, quietly.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Sim. “He’s got howlt o’ you too, Robinson.”
“Mebbe he hev; mebbe he hevn’t,” said the landlord.
“Did he ask you to go to church?”
“Well, not azackly,” said the landlord; “but he said he should be very happy to see me theer, just like astin’ me to his house.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed Sim; “and some day we shall have the Bull and Cowcumber at church.”