"Drink, I expects! Men gets like that sometimes."
Carstairs pulled the horse up dead in front of the advance guard of the men.
"I say, where are all you chaps going?" he asked.
"Women," they shouted. "Bring out the gipsy women."
"That won't do," he said, sharply. "Go on back about your business."
"Ho, ho, 'ere's Lord Muck," a cockney voice shouted in derision.
"The Earl o' Hell," another one corrected.
They swarmed round the dogcart, and the others coming up stopped to listen.
"How is it you are not at work?" Carstairs asked.
"Saturday afternoon, mister," a gruff, but civil voice replied.