“What are yer gettin’ at, guv’nor?”
“Well, look here, Sick Horse——” “By thunder, sick-horse is good.” And he added: “Who are you?”
“A bailiff, sir.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I am.”
“Well?”
“I’m getting used to shame, guv’nor.” The man was seized with a fit of coughing.
“You look beastly nervous, Sick-horse. You’d think I was going to kick you from behind.”
Sickers sighed gloomily:
“The last gentleman did,” he said hoarsely; and added, with a dry throat: “It’s a very assailable calling, sir.”