Mr. Potter: Why, ye may guess, sir—this be a free country—leastways, fules say so.
Sir John: One, I think, must be Mr. James Sturton. Am I right?
Mr. Potter: Why, as to that, sir, I answers plain and to the point as there be nobody nowhere breathin’ as can get s’much flavour into a jugged ’are ekal to old Pen—except Peter Bunkle as keeps the ‘Cross’ over tu Alfriston.
Sir John: And the second is Lord Sayle. Am I wrong?
Mr. Potter: Why, as to that, sir, Potter don’t say nothing. Du ’ee know Lord Sayle?
Sir John: I have met him.
Mr. Potter: Friend o’ yourn, sir?
Sir John: So much so that I have determined to drive him out of the country, or kill him.
(Here Mr. Potter dropped the rabbit.)
Mr. Potter: Well ... love my limbs! Kill—hist! But ... but you, sir? Axing your pardon, but you aren’t got the look of a killer.