"Which I says to Berrill, 'Berrill,' I says, 'Jest look 'ee 'ere now, if the pote ain't a-walkin' along o' Miss Gerald from the 'all, as close an' hinterested as never was, an' 'im, fer all the world, a 'missusogynist,' I says, meanin' a wimming-'ater.
"An' Berrill 'e said 'imself as 'e'd 'ardly a believed it if 'e 'adn't seed it wi' 'is own heyes, so to speak.
"'It do be a masterpiece,' 'e said, 'a reg'lar masterpiece it be.'"
They were sitting in Mrs. Chundle's kitchen, and Mrs. Berrill seemed excited.
Mrs. Chundle wiped a moist forehead with her apron, and shook her head.
"What with Mister Thomas, an' catapults—I could believe hanythink, Mrs. Berrill," she said.
"The pote's changin' 'is ways, Mrs. Chundle."
"'E is that, Mrs. Berrill, which as me haunt Jane Chundle, as is related to me blood-relations, the Cholmondeleys, 'eard Mrs. Cholmondeley o' Barnardley say to the rector's wife, an' arterwards told me private, 'Yer never do know oo's oo nowadays'—be they poits or hanybody else."