“Friends,” he said, “can you oblige me with the time?”
The farmer was about to produce his big old-fashioned silver watch when Luke nudged him sharply.
“Leave him to me,” he whispered in a tone audible only to the farmer.
“Thee has asked the wrong party,” he said. “We don’t carry watches.”
The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be he looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving the name of man.
“I didn’t speak to you,” he said scornfully.
The pedestrian’s next move was a bold one.
“I am tired,” he said. “Give me a ride.”
“Will thee excuse us?” said the Quaker meekly.
“Oh, shut up!” cried the assumed pedestrian. “Quakers should be seen and not heard.”