“‘Ah,’ says he, in a sort o’ way as I didn’t quite like. ‘What d’ee want wi’ me?’
“‘I wants a job,’ says I.
“‘Are you a gardener?’ he axed.
“‘Yes—leastwise,’ says I, ‘I’ve worked a goodish bit in gardings in my time, an’ can turn my ’and to a’most anythink.’
“‘Oh,’ says he. ‘Look ’ere, my man, what d’ee call that there tree?’ He p’inted to one close alongside.
“‘That?’ says I. ‘Well, it—it looks uncommon like a happle.’
“‘Do it?’ says he. ‘Now look ’ere, you be off as fast as your legs can take you, or I’ll set the ’ousedog at ’ee.’
“W’en he said that, Bill, I do assure you, lad, that my experience in the ring seemed to fly into my knuckles, an’ it was as much as ever I could do to keep my left off his nob and my right out of his breadbasket. But I restrained myself. If there’s one thing I’m proud of, Bill, it’s the wirtue o’ self-restraint in the way o’ business. I wheeled about, held up my nose, an’ walked off wi’ the air of a dook. You see, I didn’t want for to have no more words wi’ the gardener,—for why? because I’d seen all I wanted to see—d’ee see? But there was one—no, two—things I saw which it was as well I did see.”
“An’ what was they?” asked Bill.
“Two statters.”