“Why!” said the tinker. “Well this is a blasted innocent country! Why! Because ‘E’s blind! Wot else? (Carm on—Dam yer). Because ‘E’s just as full as ‘E can ‘old. That’s why!”
The Angel noticing the tone of the second tinker’s voice, judged it wiser not to question him further. But he stood by the grindstone and continued to watch the mysterious evolutions on the bridge.
“Carm on! I shall ‘ave to go and pick up that ‘at I suppose.... ‘E’s always at it. I ne’er ‘ad such a blooming pard before. Always at it, ‘e is.”
The man with the barrow meditated. “Taint as if ‘e was a gentleman and ‘adnt no livin’ to get. An’ ‘e’s such a reckless fool when ‘e gets a bit on. Goes offerin out everyone ‘e meets. (There you go!) I’m blessed if ‘e didn’t offer out a ‘ole bloomin’ Salvation Army. No judgment
