"I remember me of that day!" the wheelwright
sang out, with enthusiasm.
"And I likewise!" cried the mason. "I would not
believe they were thine own; in faith I could not."
"Nor other!" shouted Dowley, with sparkling eyes.
"I was like to lose my character, the neighbors wending I had mayhap been stealing. It was a great day,
a great day; one forgetteth not days like that."
Yes, and his master was a fine man, and prosperous,
and always had a great feast of meat twice in the year,
and with it white bread, true wheaten bread; in fact,
lived like a lord, so to speak. And in time Dowley
succeeded to the business and married the daughter.
"And now consider what is come to pass," said
he, impressively. "Two times in every month there
is fresh meat upon my table." He made a pause
here, to let that fact sink home, then added -- "and
eight times salt meat."
"It is even true," said the wheelwright, with bated
breath.
"I know it of mine own knowledge," said the mason,
in the same reverent fashion.
"On my table appeareth white bread every Sunday
in the year," added the master smith, with solemnity.
"I leave it to your own consciences, friends, if this is
not also true?"
"By my head, yes," cried the mason.
"I can testify it -- and I do," said the wheelwright.
"And as to furniture, ye shall say yourselves what
mine equipment is. " He waved his hand in fine
gesture of granting frank and unhampered freedom
of speech, and added: "Speak as ye are moved;
speak as ye would speak; an I were not here."
"Ye have five stools, and of the sweetest workmanship
at that, albeit your family is but three," said the
wheelwright, with deep respect.
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