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"So they tell me"

"And what does the likes o' you i' the likes o' me?"

"Work!"

"Know anythin' about s"

"Then why do 'ee come 'ere?"

"To learn"

"More fool you!" said the smith

"Why?"

"Because smithin' is 'ard work, and dirty work, and hot work, and

work as is badly paid nowadays"

"Then why are you a smith?"

"My feyther was a smith afore me"

"And is that your only reason?"

"My only reason"

"Then you are the greater fool"

"You think so, do ye?"

"Certainly"

"Supposin'," said Black George, stroking his golden beard

reflectively, "supposin' I was to get up and break your neck for

that"

"Then you would, at least, savea

s his head, "no, I do not