“You've got some good ones there!”
The lame man's face brightened. He had the upward look in his eyes which prolonged suffering often brings.
“Yeas; they'm praaper buties; gude milkers tu.”
“I bet they are.”
“'Ope as yure leg's better, zurr.”
“Thank you, it's getting on.”
The lame man touched his own: “I know what 'tes, meself; 'tes a main worritin' thing, the knee. I've a-'.d mine bad this ten year.”
Ashurst made the sound of sympathy which comes so readily from those who have an independent income, and the lame man smiled again.
“Mustn't complain, though—they mighty near 'ad it off.”
“Ho!”