"'Tis ill sport to bait a poor soul as be helpless, I think—nay I know, for I've stood there myself ere now, though I won't say as I didn't clod this fellow once or twice to-day myself—I were a rare clodder in my time, aha! Did you clod this big rogue, master?"
"No!"
"And wherefore not?"
"Because," says I, cutting myself more beef, "I happened to be that same rogue." Here Roger the landlord stared, his buxom wife shrank away, and even the talkative peddler grew silent awhile, viewing me with his shrewd, merry eyes.
"Aha!" says he at last, "'Twas you, was it?"
"It was!"
"And why must ye 'sault a noble lady?"
"I never did!"
"Gregory swears to it."
"Gregory's a liar!"