'Pretty well down'ard, but a bit too round i' the shoulder-blades. And as for them coats as he gets from the Flitton tailor, they're a poor cut to pay double money for.'
'Ah, Mr. Macey, you and me are two folks,' said Ben, slightly indignant at this carping. 'When I've got a pot o' good ale, I like to swaller it, and do my inside good, i'stead o' smelling and staring at it to see if I can't find faut wi' the brewing. I should like you to pick me out a finer-limbed young fellow nor Master Godfrey—one as 'ud knock you down easier, or 's more pleasanter-looksed when he's piert and merry.'
'Tchuh!' said Mr. Macey, provoked to increased severity, 'he isn't come to his right colour yet: he's partly like a slack-baked pie. And I doubt he's got a soft place in his head, else why should he be turned round the finger by that offal Dunsey as nobody's seen o' late, and let him kill that fine hunting boss as was the talk o' the country. And one while he was allays after Miss Nancy, and then it all went off again, like a smell o' hot porridge, as I may say. That wasn't my way, when I went a-coorting.'
'Ah, but mayhap Miss Nancy hung off, like, and your lass didn't,' said Ben.
'I should say she didn't,' said Mr. Macey, significantly. 'Before I said "sniff," I took care to know as she'd say "snaff," and pretty quick too. I wasn't a-going to open my mouth, like a dog at a fly, and snap it to again, wi' nothing to swaller.'
'Well, I think Miss Nancy's a-coming round
