'Surely, surely you have,' said the killer, looking sceptically at
the benighted females. 'However, 'tisn't much--I don't wish to
say it is. It commences like this: "Bob will tell the weight of
your pig, 'a b'lieve," says I. The congregation of neighbours
think I mane my son Bob, naturally; but the secret is that I mane
the bob o' the steelyard. Ha, ha, ha!'
'Haw, haw, haw!' laughed Martin Cannister, who had heard the
explanation of this striking story for the hundredth time.
'Huh, huh, huh!' laughed John Smith, who had heard it for the
thousandth.
'Hee, hee, hee!' laughed William Worm, who had never heard it at
all, but was afraid to say so.
'Thy grandfather, Robert, must have been a wide-awake chap to make
that story,' said Martin Cannister, subsiding to a placid aspect
of delighted criticism.
'He had a head, by all account. And, you see, as the first-born
of the Lickpans have all been Roberts, they've all been Bobs, so
the story was handed down to the present day.'
'Poor Joseph, your second boy, will never be able to bring it out
in company, which is rather unfortunate,' said Mrs. Worm
thoughtfully.
''A won't. Yes, grandfer was a clever chap, as ye say; but I
knowed a cleverer. 'Twas my uncle Levi. Uncle Levi made a snuff-
box that should be a puzzle to his friends to open. He used to
hand en round at wedding parties, christenings, funerals, and in
other jolly company, and let 'em try their skill.
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