Reuben's thoughts seemed engaged elsewhere, and he yawned.

"And the collar of your coat is a shame to behold--so plastered with dirt, or dust, or grease, or something.

Why, wherever could you have got it ?" "'Tis my warm nater in summer-time, I suppose.

I always did get in such a heat when I bustle about." "Ay, the Dewys always were such a coarse-skinned family.

There's your brother Bob just as bad--as fat as a porpoise--wi' his low, mean, 'How'st do, Ann ?' whenever he meets me.