"And don't thee come atween a man an' his vittles, Abe," Jim commanded, when he saw me about to ply Billy with eager questions. "Aw dunnot gradely know what they kirsened yar friend here 'Daft Billy' for, but if he's daft aw'd like to know wheer they find th' wise men. Tak' another collop, Billy, an' ha' some cheese an' pickled cabbage wi' it. It gi'es a relish to th' bacon, though aw mun say tha's getten a varry respectable twist o' thi own wi'out mich bucking. Help thissen to th' haver bread an' th' ale. It's thinnish drinkin', to be sewer, but what's wantin' i' th' quality yo' can happen ma' up i' th' quantity." I thought Billy would never have done. And he ate as leisurely and as solemnly as if he'd been at a funeral, and never a word spoke he till, after eating enough for three ordinary men, he at last drew the back of his big hand across his mouth, and said gravely: "Theer, aw think aw'st do nah." "Are ta sewer tha, couldn't do another slice across th' flitch," asked Jim, not, I thought, without latent sarcasm. "Noa," said Billy, reluctantly, "but th' owd woman med put me up a mouthfu' or two i' a bit o' paper for a bitin' on in an hour or two." "God help the man's belly," muttered Mary, but set the frying pan to work again. "And now, Billy," I urged. But no, Billy was not to be hurried. He'd just have a reek o' baccy, he announced, by way partly of digestive and partly to assist the workings of his mind. For a good hour by the old grandfather's clock, which never ticked so slowly since clock it was, did Billy sit over the fire staring into the embers and smoking stolidly. When he did open his lips it was only to ask: "Han yo' nowt shorter nor whom-brewed? That stuff ligs cowd to th' stummick. Other brandy or whisky or rum 'ud do, but brandy for choice." Now Mary, by great good fortune, had about a pint of brandy stored away these goodness knows how many years back, to be ready in case of sudden sickness, and this she very reluctantly produced. Billy eyed it sourly. "It's hardly worth startin' on," he grumbled, "but when he can't get what he wants a wise man wants what he can get." Then once again silence. Not till he'd emptied the bottle and smoked up both his own store of twin and Jim's did he speak again, and then it was to ask an apparently irrelevant question: "Have yo' a horse an' onny mak' o' cart at Mitchell Mill?" Now Jim and I had found it necessary to buy a horse and cart, and the animal was eating its head off in a stable by the mill. "Ha' it here bi midneet," Billy commanded. "Aw'st be here afore then, an' aw'st be both hungry and dry. Put some straw or some wool or owt 'at 'll mak' soft liggin' i' th' bottom o' th' cart, an' gi' th' horse th' best feed o' oats it's ivver had i' its life. An' yo'd better put a flirsk o' brandy i' yo'r coit pockets, an' be ready to start when aw come back an' ha' etten an' druffen."