“I call it the crackling of thorns under a pot.”
“What I want to know is, where’s a fellow’s liberty to come in?”
“That’s what I says; I ain’t agoing to be made a teetotaler willy-nilly, and give up my beer for no young jackanapes like him. Not I! I be a bit too old for that sort of thing. No, no, says I, you don’t catch old birds with chaff, not a bit on it.”
“And I says ditto. None of your buttercups and daisies, and no publics for me. I am a man, I am, and I ain’t agoing to be a child, nor yet a slave. I shan’t go.”
“No, Jim, I guessed you wouldn’t as soon as I heard what he said. You couldn’t be happy if you mightn’t get drunk twice a week, could you?”
“You mind your own business, and let me mind mine. I shall do as I like, and you may do the same.”
“Thank you; as for me, I shall try the new life. There isn’t much to be got out of the old one, I’m thinking.”
“What nonsense it is for him to talk about sharing the profits! As if he would! A fine lot will come to your share!”
“I’m not sure about that. A good many masters are trying that on; and it answers, too! The men put better work in, and more of it, if they think all the reward doesn’t go to somebody else.”
“I’d sell my chance for a pot of ale.”