"Arternoon, you mean," replied the groom, casting a surly look at Sam.
"You're wery right, old friend," said Sam; "I do mean arternoon. How are you?"
"Why, I don't find myself much the better for seeing of you," replied the ill-tempered groom.
"That's wery odd—that is," said Sam, "for you look so uncommon cheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it does vun's heart good to see you."
The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficiently so to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately inquired, with a countenance of great anxiety, whether his master's name was not Walker.
"No, it ain't," said the groom.
"Nor Brown, I s'pose?" said Sam.
"No, it ain't."
"Nor Vilson?"
"No; nor that neither," said the groom.
"Vell," replied Sam, "then I'm mistaken, and he hasn't got the honor o' my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don't wait here out o' compliment to me," said Sam, as the groom wheeled in the barrow, and prepared to shut the gate. "Ease afore ceremony, old boy; I'll excuse you."
"I'd knock your head off for half-a-crown," said the surly groom, bolting one half of the gate.
"Couldn't afford to have it done on those terms," rejoined Sam. "It 'ud be worth a life's board vages at least, to you, and 'ud be cheap at that. Make my compliments in doors. Tell 'em not to vait dinner for me, and say they needn't mind puttin' any by, for it'll be cold afore I come in."
In reply to this, the groom waxing very wrath, muttered a desire to damage somebody's person; but disappeared without carrying it into execution, slamming the door angrily after him, and wholly unheeding Sam's affectionate request, that he would leave him a lock of his hair before he went.
Sam continued to sit on the large stone, meditating upon
