'
'I tell no lies,' said the butcher, with the same mild huskiness as
before; 'and I contradick none- not if a man was to swear himself
black: he's no meat o' mine nor none o' my bargains. All I say is,
it's a lovely carkiss. And what I say, I'll stick to; but I'll quarrel
wi' no man.'
'No,' said the farrier, with bitter sarcasm, looking at the company
generally; 'and p'rhaps you aren't pig-headed; and p'rhaps you
didn't say the cow was a red Durham; and p'rhaps you didn't say
she'd got a star on her brow- stick to that, now you're at it.'
'Come, come,' said the landlord; 'let the cow alone. The truth lies
atween you: you're both right and both wrong, as I allays says. And as
for the cow's being Mr Lammeter's, I say nothing to that; but this I
say, as the Rainbow's the Rainbow. And for the matter o' that, if
the talk is to be o' the Lammeters, you know the most upo' that
head, eh, Mr Macey? You remember when first Mr Lammeter's father
come into these parts, and took the Warrens?'
Mr Macey, tailor and parish-clerk, the latter of which functions
rheumatism had of late obliged him to share with a small-featured
young man who sat opposite him, held his white head on one side, and
twirled his thumbs with an air of complacency, slightly seasoned
with criticism. He smiled pityingly, in answer to the landlord's
appeal, and said-
'Aye, aye; I know, I know; but I let other folks talk.
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