“Warn he’ll want some hay?” This was a leading question, and Hedges rubbed away at the pig to appear innocently unconcerned.
“I sold his trainer eighty ton o’ clauver,” said Ruck. “A’ be a gentleman, every inch of un.”
“Stiffish price, you?”
“Five pound ten.”
Whew!
“Ay, ay; but it be five mile to cart it; and a nation bad road.”
“What’s that long chap doing at Squire’s? He ’as been to Australia.”
“A’ be goin’ to larn farming.”
“Larn farming!” Intense contempt.
“A’ be down to Greene Ferne a’ studying pretty often,” said Ruck, with a wink and a broad grin.