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Updated: May 7, 2025
Fortunately for the reader, the story he was now requested to relate was not a long one. "It ain't quite a story," he began and in beginning he cleared his throat with emphasis, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and tilted his chair on its hind-legs "it ain't quite a story; it's a hanecdote, a sort of hincident, so to speak, and this is 'ow it 'appened:
"Tell me a story about 'em, Buzzby do, like a good chap," said Davie Summers, burying his nose in the skirts of his hairy garment to keep it warm. "You're a capital hand at a yarn; now, fire away." "A story, lad; I don't know as how I can exactly tell ye a story, but I'll give ye wot they calls a hanecdote.
"Tell me a story about 'em, Buzzby do, like a good chap," said Davie Summers, burying his nose in the skirts of his hairy garment to keep it warm. "You're a capital hand at a yarn, now, fire away." "A story, lad; I don't know as how I can exactly tell ye a story, but I'll give ye wot they calls a hanecdote.
"What sort o' yarn d'ee want, boys?" he asked, stirring the fire in the small stove that warmed the little cabin; "shall it be comical or sentimental?" "Let's have a true ghost story," cried Puffy. "No, no," said Freeman, "a hanecdote that's what I'm fondest of suthin' short an' sweet, as the little boy said to the stick o' liquorice."
"Ah, that's true," said Ned Spivin, checking a lump of salt beef on the end of his clasp-knife half way to his mouth; "did I ever tell 'ee, lads, that little hanecdote about a man we called Glutton, he was such an awful eater?" "No, never heard on it," said several voices. "Well, then, this is 'ow it was," said Spivin, clearing his voice.
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