“Well, sir, my old woman be wonderful with the cookin’, and she did do ’em up in a-many different ways. ’E-es, we did use to have a rabbit for dinner four days out of seven.”
“Did you indeed?” returned his former master, much interested in these revelations. “Do you suppose, John, the other men had hundreds of rabbits every year, too?”
“Well, sir, it be a matter o’ taste. Some folks doesn’t fancy rabbit; but, of course, they can take so many as they do want.”
“Of course,” agreed the Squire.
“’E-es; keepers takes rabbits same as gardeners helps theirselves to cabbages. I knowed you’d never begrudge me that there little un.”
“No, to be sure; but we mustn’t be too hard on Jim. Jim was doing what he thought to be his duty. Now, you know, no matter how many rabbits a keeper may take for himself, he is not supposed to allow other people to take any.”
“Nay, sir, nay; I wouldn’t expect it—not other folks. But I d’ ’low it be different wi’ I, what was head over en for so many year. He didn’t ought to ha’ gone and insulted of I.”
“No, no, of course not; but then, you see, you had vexed him. He was too angry to discriminate between poaching and—just helping yourself.”
“And t’other chap, ’ee telled I I was trespassin’!” resumed John wrathfully.
“Well, my dear John, we must consider the point of view. Every man has his own, you know. As a matter of fact, I’m afraid, from Sanders’s point of view, you were trespassing.”