Eld. F. Well, I dunno as theer was any partickler reason for 't. (He endeavours to think of one in a puzzle-headed way.) I s'pose I must ha' thowt I'd make a bit of a shift like—and theer ye hev it.
First Stock-breeder (to Second). Well, an' how's Muster Spuddock to-day?
Muster Spuddock. Oh, 'mong th' middlins—'mong th' middlins. Pretty well fur an old 'un?
First Stockbr. An' how's trade with you, eh?
Muster Sp. (beaming). Oh, nawthen' doin'—nawthen' doin' 't all!
First Stockbr. (with equal cheerfulness). Same 'ere, sir—same 'ere. On'y thing that's got money has been th' dead meat.
Muster Sp. (without appearing to envy the dead meat on this account). Ah, that's it. Ye cann't reckon on moor nor thrippence,—an' your own expenses, i' coorse.
First Stockbr. An' thet's borderin' nigh on fowerpence; an' when it comes to two pound a bullock——!