"Can I?"
"You can."
"My chap," he growled, holding up a warning hand, "go easy now, go easy; don't get me took again."
"Not if I can help it," I returned.
"I be a quiet soul till I gets took—a very quiet soul—lambs bean't quieter, but I won't answer for that neck o' yourn if I do get took—so look out!"
"I understand you have an important piece of work on hand," said I, changing the subject.
"Th' owd church screen, yes."
"And are in need of a helper?"
"Ah! to be sure—but you aren't got the look o' a workin' cove. I never see a workin' cove wi' 'ands the like o' yourn, so white as a woman's they be."
"I have worked hard enough in my time, nevertheless," said I.