"Stop!" said I, as he began to move away. "Not on no account!" "Then I must make you," said I, and doubled my fists. The Postilion eyed me over from head to foot, and paused, irresolute. "What might you be wanting with a peaceable, civil-spoke cove like me?" he inquired. "Where is your chaise?" "Up in the lane, som'eres over yonder," answered he, with a vague jerk of his thumb over his shoulder.
"It is," said I, "a damnable thing!" "Ay many's the man as 'as been ruinated by 'is imagination theer was one, Nicodemus Blyte were 'is name " "And a very miserable cove 'e sounds, too!" added Simon. "But a very decent, civil-spoke, quiet young chap 'e were!" continued the Ancient, "only for 'is imagination; Lord!
This is Margaret Hep.'s gander, says Joe no, I think he said, 'Miss Heptonstall's gander. Didn't thou, Joe? Joe's allus so respectful and civil-spoke, pertic'larly when it's a lady as he's a-talking about." Joe grinned and began to look jocular too. His friend's last assertion pleased him better than the wild flights of a little time before. "That's it," said Joe. "Ho, ho! Reet!"
"Forgotten?" repeated the Postilion, "Oh, Lord, yes!" and leaning over, he winked one eye, very deliberately; "forgotten 'er ah! to be sure of course!" and he winked again. "What do you mean?" I demanded, nettled by the fellow's manner. "Mean?" said he, "I means as of all the damned onnat'ralness as come on a honest, well-meaning, civil-spoke cove why, I'm that there cove, so 'elp me!"