They had some lunch at the farm; then Geoffrey and Valentine, feeling that they had no excuse for remaining longer, left together. But three fields distant, Valentine remarked that he must go down and see to his cottage, simply an excuse to part company. So each pursued his way alone.
Passing into the highway road that ran through the hamlet, Valentine, as he went by the Spotted Cow, a small wayside inn, saw Ruck and Hedges sitting with others outside, enjoying a pipe and gossip under the elm from which the sign was hung. On the rude table before them stood some mugs. Valentine beckoned to Ruck, who came.
“Have you sent up the clover?”
“Eez, eez.”
“And the oats?”
“Thaay be goin’ up this arternoon, sir.”
“My trainer said your last hay was not so good.”
“Did a’? Then he doan’t knaw good clauver when a’ sees it. This be vine tackle, I can tell ee.”
“Well, I hope it is. Good day.”
“A’ be terrable sharp about his osses,” said the old man, when he got back to his seat; “but I thenks zumtimes as thur be volk that be sharper than he.”