“Oo, ay, it is a fine day.”
He also passed on.
Another turn in the road, and Mr Sudberry met a drove of shaggy cattle, each cow of which looked sturdy and fierce enough for any ordinary bull; while the bull himself was something awful to look upon. There is nothing ladylike or at all feminine in the aspect of a Highland cow!
Mr Sudberry politely stepped to one side, and made way for them. Many of the animals paused for an instant, and gazed at the Englishman with profound gravity, and then went on their way with an air that showed they evidently could make nothing of him. The drover thought otherwise, for he stopped.
“Coot-tay to you, sir.”
“Good-day, friend, good-day. Splendid weather for the—for the—”
Mr Sudberry did not know exactly for which department of agriculture the weather was most favourable, so he said—“for the cattle.”
“Oo, ay, the w’ather’s no that ill. Can she tell the time o’ day?”
Out came the compass.
“West-nor’-west, and by—Oh! I beg your pardon,” (pulling out his watch and replacing the compass), “a quarter-past two.”