Squire Jones’ pew was next but two to Johnny’s and when Johnny stood up he naturally looked straight at Sally Jones.
Now Sally had a face not to be grinned at in a fog. She was easy to look at and Johnny succumbed.
Squire Jones had got his evening fire on and set himself to read the great Bible, when he heard a rap at his door.
“Walk in. Well John, howder do? Git out Pompey!”
“Pretty well, I thank you Squire; and how do you do?”
“Why, so as to be crawling. Ye ugly beast, will ye hold yer yop! Haul up a chair and sit down, John.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Jones?”
“Oh, middlin’. How’s yer marm?”
“Don’t forget the mat there Mr. Blunt.”
This put Johnny in mind that he had been off soundings several times in the long muddy lane, and that his boots were in a sweet pickle.