“Scarce a bit.”
“They be Chichesters then—the werry best breed as a man ever had in his stye.”
“I never see anything so pretty,” replied Mr. O’Rapley.
“Ah! and they be the smallest-boned pigs as ever could be—they bean’t got a bone bigger nor your little finger.”
“Ha!” said the Don, finishing his glass, “the smaller the bone the more the meat, that’s what I always say; and the Lord Chief Justice don’t care for bone, he likes meat.”
“An’ so do I—the Lud Judge be right, and if he tries my case he’ll know the difference betwixt thic pig as Snooks tooked away and one o’ them there—”
“Jackass-looking pigs,” said O’Rapley, seeing that his friend paused. “I hate them jackass pigs.”
“So do I—they never puts on fat.”
“I must go, really,” said O’Rapley. “What do you make the right time?”
Master Bumpkin pulled out his watch with great effort, and said it was just a quarter past four by Yokelton time.