Mr. Penny made another hole with his awl, pushed in the thread, and looked up and spoke again at the extension of arms.
“’Tis his goings-on, souls, that’s what it is.” He clenched his features for an Herculean addition to the ordinary pull, and continued, “The first thing he done when he came here was to be hot and strong about church business.”
“True,” said Spinks; “that was the very first thing he done.”
Mr. Penny, having now been offered the ear of the assembly, accepted it, ceased stitching, swallowed an unimportant quantity of air as if it were a pill, and continued:
“The next thing he do do is to think about altering the church, until he found ’twould be a matter o’ cost and what not, and then not to think no more about it.”
“True: that was the next thing he done.”
“And the next thing was to tell the young chaps that they were not on no account to put their hats in the christening font during service.”
“True.”
“And then ’twas this, and then ’twas that, and now ’tis—”
Words were not forcible enough to conclude the sentence, and Mr. Penny gave a huge pull to signify the concluding word.