carefully-cautious voice, by way of tiding-over this critical point of
affairs.

"No one at all," said Joseph Bowman, in the tone of a man fully agreeing
with everybody.

"Ay," said Mail, in the tone of a man who did not agree with everybody as
a rule, though he did now; "I knowed a' auctioneering feller once--a very
friendly feller 'a was too. And so one hot day as I was walking down the
front street o' Casterbridge, jist below the King's Arms, I passed a'
open winder and see him inside, stuck upon his perch, a-selling off. I
jist nodded to en in a friendly way as I passed, and went my way, and
thought no more about it. Well, next day, as I was oilen my boots by
fuel-house door, if a letter didn't come wi' a bill charging me with a
feather-bed, bolster, and pillers, that I had bid for at Mr. Taylor's
sale. The slim-faced martel had knocked 'em down to me because I nodded
to en in my friendly way; and I had to pay for 'em too. Now, I hold that
that was coming it very close, Reuben?"

"'Twas close, there's no denying," said the general voice.

"Too close, 'twas," said Reuben, in the rear of the rest. "And as to Sam
Lawson--poor heart! now he's dead and gone too!--I'll warrant, that if so
be I've spent one hour in making hoops for that barrel, I've spent fifty,
first and last. That's one of my hoops"--touching it with his
elbow--"that's one of mine, and that, and that, and all these."

"Ah, Sam was a man," said Mr. Penny, contemplatively.

"Sam was!" said Bowman.