The peasant stood in the middle of the room, looking at the floor.
“Have you had dinner or not?” said the deacon, standing with the abacus[[21]] in his hand.
“Oh, ay, I had my dinner, ... only ’tis something ... if I hadn’t eaten it....”
“What do you mean?”
The peasant held his tongue.
“I don’t understand; what did you have? Can’t you tell me? I’ve got to pay the bill, you know. Well, what was there? I suppose you had something to drink?”
“Oh, ay, something to drink, I had.”
“What was it—cider?” And the deacon lifted his hand to mark it off.
“Ay, sir, there was cider, of course there was....”
“Plain cider? No, something in it, I dare say?”