“I’d ha’ thought,” said the guard, “that amount of smoking would ha’ cured him already.”
The pig, hearing the talk, opened the window and handed out a slice of himself on a plate, saying, as he did so, “There, you see yourselves I am not half cured yet, so don’t bother me any more. What can’t be cured must be endured.” He gave such a puff of smoke as he said this, that Ranulf sneezed a loud “H-a-a-a-m.”
A FALSE START.
“No, I am not ham,” said the pig.
“Bacon, then,” said Jaques.
“So I do mean to bake on,” said the pig, “in the smoke here, and when I am ham I’ll let you know; so don’t take it for grunted till I tell you.”
He shut the window again.
“Why can’t he talk correct, and say ‘When I ham ’am’?” said the guard, as, the pig closed the window.
The next carriage was empty; and no wonder—for it was the sleeping-carriage, and was snoring so loud that even the wooden sleepers below wouldn’t stay quiet, and were anything but chary of their raillery. When Jaques looked in it only spoke in its sleep, and said, “Are we far from Wakefield yet?”