CHAPTER I CONCERNING ONE TOM MARTIN, AN OSTLER I sat upon a hay pile in that same shady corner of the yard behind the "Chequers" inn where once had stood a weather-beaten cart drawn by a four-footed philosopher called Diogenes. But to-day this corner was empty save for myself, and the yard also except for two or three wains or country waggons and a man in a sleeved waistcoat who chewed upon a straw and stared at the inn, the waggons and myself with a faded, lack-lustre eye and sniffed; so frequently indeed, and so loudly that at last it obtruded itself upon my notice. "You have a very bad cold!" said I. "I ain't!" he retorted gloomily. "Yet you sniff very loud." "Con-sti-tootional!" quoth he. "My feyther done it afore me, an' 'is feyther afore 'im, 'an 'is feyther afore 'im an'--but wot of it, my chap? Can't a cove sniff if so minded?" "Certainly!" I answered. "I ain't said nothink to you about wallerin' in that theer 'ay--'ave I? Very well! Why can't you let a man sniff in peace?" "Very well," said I, "sniff!" "I will!" said he and immediately did so, louder than ever. "Astonishing!" said I. "A cove can sniff without a cold if so be 't is 'is natur' so to do, can't 'e?" "So I perceive." "An' 't is a free country an' such so bein', a man's at liberty to sniff or no, an' no offence give or took, ain't 'e? Very well, then!" "Very well indeed!" I nodded. "I have never heard a man sniff better or louder--" "You leave my sniffin' alone an' I'll leave you alone--" "I hope you will," said I. "Well, I ain't so sure as I will; you wags your chin too much to please me--an' let me tell ye, bold an' p'inted, I don't like the cock o' your eye! So s'pose you stand on your pins--" "Well," I answered, stretching myself more comfortably, "let us suppose so--what then?" "Why, then, my covey, I'll knock ye off your pins again--prompt an' j'yful!" "Under those circumstances I much prefer to remain as I am." "Why, then you're a weevil--a worm, ah--an' what's more, a weevily worm at that, an' I spits on ye!" Here, perceiving that he was about to put his heinous threat into execution, I arose. "Enough!" quoth I, buttoning my coat. "Now let Olympus shake, the caverns of ocean roar, the round earth tremble! If you have fists, prepare to use them now--come on, pestiferous peasant, most contumacious clod, and 'damned be he that first cries Hold--enough'!" "Well, drown'd me!" exclaimed the ostler, staring. "Drown'd me if I ever 'eard sich 'orrid talk in all my days, an' I've groomed for a earl--ah, an' a markis afore now!"