“ ’Tis wondrous,” remarked Mr. Torp, receiving his glass with unsteady hand; “ ’tis wondrous for a man what works with chisel and hammer all day, to sit and see what folks be like who never do a stroke. I bain’t one o’ they myself who do blame the gentry. What I do say be this, and I don’t care who hears it. I do say that a man be a man while he lives; and a gent be a gent while he lives. Durn me if that ain’t the truth.”

“But when we’re dead, Mr. Torp,” called out the voice of Jason from the further end of the room, “what are we when we’re dead?”

“Evenin’, Mr. Otter, evenin’ to ’ee, Sir! Dead, say ’ee? I be the man to answer that conundrum. Us be as our tombstones be! Them as has ‘Torp’ writ on ’um in clean, good marble, be with the Lord. They others be with wold Horny.”