Now, against the finger-post one of my Lord Sayle’s bills had been set up, and before this they espied a stalwart man busily reading by the aid of a short, though formidable bludgeon with which he ticked off each word, letter by letter; this, though a somewhat laborious business, seemed to afford the reader no small pleasure, for more than once he chuckled, and it was with a smile upon his face that he now turned to greet them, touching bludgeon to eyebrow in salute.
“What, Mr. Potter!” exclaimed Sir John. “Where ha’ you been these last few days?”
“Here and theer, Mus’ Derwent—mostly theer.”
“And how are you?”
“Never better, sir.”
“Do you chance to have seen a man pass who has lost his hat?”
“Nary a one, sir.”
“Why, then, perchance you can recognise the hat—show it him, Bob.”
At this, Corporal Robert struck himself a resounding blow upon muscular thigh.