“They’ll ’ave been round givin’ ‘the word,’ I reckon?”
“They ’ave, Tom.”
Here Messrs. Godby and Muddle sauntered up and presently there were four stalwart backs against the old cross.
“What be the tale, lads?” inquired Mr. Potter.
“Fourteen, Jarge!” quoth Mr. Godby, cutting a quid of tobacco.
“’Leven!” said Mr. Muddle, tapping a large, horn snuff-box.
“Which du mak’ thirty-seven on us, all told,” added Mr. Pursglove, snuffing with Mr. Muddle.
“Ah!” nodded Mr. Potter; and so fell a ruminative silence.
“Fine night, Jarge, ’twill be?” opined Mr. Muddle at last.
“Sh’uldn’t wonder, Joe,” admitted Mr. Potter.