“Aye, ’im!” nodded the Ancient One fiercely. “I seen ’im, I did, lookin’ so black an’ gloomy-glum! ’E be a man as bean’t no account no’ow at arl, as I’d up an’ tell ’un to ’is ’ead, I would! Ah, an’ t’other ’un’s as bad.”
“Who is t’other one?”
“’Oo? Why, ’im fur sure! ’Im as bean’t nohow s’good as ’is feäther was afore ’im—that’s ’oo, young man.”
“’E do mean Sir John Dering, sir,” explained Mr. Potter again.
“Ah!” snarled the Ancient One, shaking bony fist. “They be both on ’em come back again to plague the country an’ the loikes o’ we!”
“Did you happen to see Sir John Dering, Potter?” inquired Sir John.
“No, sir, but they say ’e’s back in Sussex at last.”
“An’ ’ardly a mile awaay be ‘The Acorn’!” added the Ancient One; “an’ Ed’ard an’ ’is mistus’ brews good ale! An’ I be that tur’ble dry. What wi’ me a-chacketin’ an’ Old Johnny a-tormentin’ o’ me!”
“Old Johnny?” inquired Sir John.
“Gaffer means the axey, sir,” quoth Mr. Potter.