These Snowes were to come, and come they did, partly because Mr.
Huckaback liked to see fine young maidens, and partly because none but Nicholas Snowe could smoke a pipe now all around our parts, except of the very high people, whom we durst never invite.

And Uncle Ben, as we all knew well, was a great hand at his pipe, and would sit for hours over it, in our warm chimney-corner, and never want to say a word, unless it were inside him; only he liked to have somebody there over against him smoking.
Now when I came in, before one o'clock, after seeing to the cattle--for the day was thicker than ever, and we must keep the cattle close at home, if we wished to see any more of them--I fully expected to find Uncle Ben sitting in the fireplace, lifting one cover and then another, as his favourite manner was, and making sweet mouths over them; for he loved our bacon rarely, and they had no good leeks at Dulverton; and he was a man who always would see his business done himself.

But there instead of my finding him with his quaint dry face pulled out at me, and then shut up sharp not to be cheated--who should run out but Betty Muxworthy, and poke me with a saucepan lid.
'Get out of that now, Betty,' I said in my politest manner, for really Betty was now become a great domestic evil.

She would have her own way so, and of all things the most distressful was for a man to try to reason.
'Zider-press,' cried Betty again, for she thought it a fine joke to call me that, because of my size, and my hatred of it; 'here be a rare get up, anyhow.' 'A rare good dinner, you mean, Betty.

Well, and I have a rare good appetite.' With that I wanted to go and smell it, and not to stop for Betty.
'Troost thee for thiccy, Jan Ridd.