“What bist a laughin' at?”
“I be laughin' to think how folks changes. Do'st mind the hard things as thou hast judged and said o' Harry? Not as ever I known thy judgment to be o' much account, 'cept about roots. But thou saidst, times and times, as a would come to the gallows.”
“So a med yet—so a med yet,” answered Simon. “Not but wut I wishes well to un, and bears no grudges; but others as hev got the law ov un medn't.”
“'Tis he as hev got grudges to bear. He don't need none o' thy forgiveness.”
“Pr'aps a medn't. But hev 'em got the law ov un, or hevn't em?”
“Wut do'st mean—got the law ov un?”
“Thaay warrants as wur out agen un, along wi' the rest as was transpworted auver Farmer Tester's job.”
“Oh, he've got no call to be afeard o' thaay now. Thou know'st I hears how 'tis laid down in Sessions and 'Sizes, wher' I've a been this twenty year.”
“Like enuff. Only, wut's to hinder thaay tryin' ov un, if thaay be a minded to 't? That's what I wants to know.”
“'Tis wut the counsellors calls the Statut o' Lamentations,” said the constable, proudly.