Tummas looked at once disappointed and somewhat incredulous.
“That’s the road they tell it i’ the village,” he argued.
“Well, let them tell it that way if they like it best. That’s not going to worry me,” Tembarom replied uncombatively. Tummas’s eyes bored deeper into him.
“Does na tha care?” he demanded.
“What should I care for? Let every fellow enjoy himself his own way.”
“Tha ’rt not a bit like one o’ the gentry,” said Tummas. “Tha ’rt quite a common chap. Tha ’rt as common as me, for aw tha foine clothes.”
“People are common enough, anyhow,” said Tembarom. “There’s nothing much commoner, is there? There’s millions of ’em everywhere—billions of ’em. None of us need put on airs.”
“Tha ’rt as common as me,” said Tummas, reflectively. “An’ yet tha owns Temple Barholm an’ aw that brass. I conna mak’ out how the loike happens.”
“Neither can I; but it does all samee.”
“It does na happen i’ ’Meriker,” exulted Tummas. “Everybody’s equal theer.”