Number one: “Why, how could it be?”
Number three again—angry, I thought.
Number two (rather anxiously): “But, sir, really, sir, I don't much like them.… Must I really, sir?… O sir, it's got a maggot in it, and I believe they're poison.” (Smack, smack, smack, smack.)
Two voices, very lamentable: “O sir, sir, please sir!”
A considerable pause, and sniffing. Then Number two, in a broken voice: “You silly fool, why did you go laughing like that right under his snout? You might have known he'd cog it.” (“Cog.” I had not heard the word since 1876.) “There'll be an awful row to-morrow. Look here, I shall go to bed.”
The voices died away; I thought Number one seemed to be apologizing.
That was all I heard that night. After eleven o'clock things seemed to get very still, and I began to feel just a little apprehensive lest something of a less innocent kind should come along. So I went to bed.
III
THE SECOND JAR
Next day, I must say, was very amusing. I spent the whole of it in the fields just strolling about and sitting down, as the fancy took me, listening to what went on in the trees and hedges. I will not write down yet the kind of thing I heard, for it was only the beginning. I had not yet found out the way of using the new power to the very best advantage. I felt the want of being able to put in a remark or a question of my own every now and then. But I was pretty sure that the jar which had linguam on it would manage that.