"Come on, James, 'ere 'e be--come for'ard, James, like a man."
Thus adjured, another individual appeared: a somewhat
flaccid-looking individual, with colorless hair and eyes, one
who seemed to exhale an air of apology, as it were, from the
hobnailed boot upon the floor to the grimy forefinger that
touched the strawlike hair in salutation.
"Marnin', Peter!" said Old Amos, "this yere is Dutton."
"How do you do?" said I, acknowledging the introduction, "and
what can I do for Mr. Dutton?" The latter, instead of replying,
took out a vivid belcher handkerchief, and apologetically mopped
his face.
"Speak up, James Dutton," said Old Amos.
"Lord!" exclaimed Dutton, "Lord! I du be that 'ot!--you speak
for I, Amos, du."
"Well," began Old Amos, not ill-pleased, "this 'ere Dutton wants
to ax 'ee a question, 'e du, Peter."
"I shall be glad to answer it, if I can," I returned.
"You 'ear that?--well, ax your question, James Dutton," commanded
the old man.
"W'y, ye see, Amos," began Dutton, positively reeking apology, "I
du be that on-common 'ot--you ax un."
"W'y, then, Peter," began Amos, with great unction, "it's 'is
pigs!"
"Pigs?" I exclaimed, staring.
"Ah! pigs, Peter," nodded Old Amos, "Dutton's pigs; 'is sow
farrowed last week--at three in the marnin'--nine of 'em!"
"Well?" said I, wondering more and more.
"Well, Peter, they was a fine 'earty lot, an' all a-doin' well
--till last Monday."
"Indeed!" said I.
"Last Monday night, four on 'em sickened an' died!"
"Most unfortunate!" said I.
"An' the rest 'as never been the same since."
"Probably ate something that disagreed with them," said I,
picking up my hammer and laying it down again. Old Amos smiled
and shook his head.
"You know James Dutton's pigsty, don't ye, Peter?"
"I really can't say that I do."
"Yet you pass it every day on your way to the 'Oller--it lays
just be'ind Simon's oast-'ouse, as James 'isself will tell 'ee."
"So it du," interpolated Dutton, with an apologetic nod, "which,
leastways, if it don't, can't be no'ow!" having delivered himself
of which, he buried his face in the belcher handkerchief.
"Now, one evenin', Peter," continued Old Amos, "one evenin' you
leaned over the fence o' that theer pigsty an' stood a-lookin' at
they pigs for, p'r'aps, ten minutes."