'He ain't keerful about shewin' hisself,'said a drawling native voice in Wych Hazel's neighbourhood. 'Hain't no objection to folks' reck'nin' his inches.'
'He's baulder'n I'd loike to be' said another voice, Wych Hazel could not guess of what nationality.
'A can bear it,' answered a woman. 'I'd loike to see you a standin' up for your picter, Jim!'
'He don't mind!' said a brisk lass. 'You bet, he knows all about it.
Don't he, though!'
'Is he a married mon?'
'Na, he's got nobody to look arter him.'
'He don't mind that, ayther.'
'He's mighty onconsarned, anyhow,' said the first speaker. 'Lawk, I never could be a orator.'
'Don't, then,' said the girl. 'You hush, or he'll hear.'
Rollo did them justice, as far as not minding anything went. His first action after taking his stand, was to fold his arms and take a somewhat prolonged survey of the company. The quick gray eyes came everywhere; did they know Hazel? It appeared not; for after a few minutes of this silent survey, Rollo bade his audience 'good evening' and began his work.