"O sir, most curst."
"Poor Pancras!" said the Major.
"No, no, sir, a Gad's name don't call me so, 'tis a curst name, 'twas my father's name, beside 'tis a name to hang a dog. Call me Tam, Tam's short and to the point—all my friends call me Tam, so call me Tam!"
"So be it, Tom. So you come into the country for your health?"
"Aye, sir, I do. Nothing like the country, sir, balmy air—mighty invigorating, look at the ploughmen they eat and drink and sleep and—er——"
"Plough!" suggested the Major, gravely.
"Begad, sir, so they do. And besides, I do love the country—brooks and beehives, nunky; cabbages, y'know, cows d'ye see and clods and things——"
"And cuckoos, Tom."
"Aye, and cuckoos!" said the Viscount serenely.
"Indeed, the country hath a beauty all its own, sir, so am I come to——"