"A fine day!" said I.
"Is it?" said he.
"Why—to be sure it is," said I, somewhat taken aback by his manner; "to be sure it is."
"Oh!" said he, and shifted the straw very dexterously from one corner of his mouth to the other, by some unseen agency, and stared up the road harder than ever.
"What are you looking at?" I inquired.
"'Ill," said he.
"And why do you look at the hill?"
"Mail," said he.
"Oh!" said I.
"Ah!" said he.