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VIII. The Malthouse—The Chat—News

           Hewasamanofmorethanmiddleage,witheyebrowshighupinhisforehead,wholaiditdownthatthelawoftheworldwasbad,withalong-sufferinglookthroughhislistenersattheworldalludedto,asitpresenteditselftohisimagination.Healwayssignedhisname"Henery"—strenuouslyinsistinguponthatspelling,andifanypassingschoolmasterventuredtoremarkthatthesecond"e"wassuperfluousandold-fashioned,hereceivedthereplythat"H-e-n-e-r-y"wasthenamehewaschristenedandthenamehewouldstickto—inthetoneofonetowhomorthographicaldifferenceswerematterswhichhadagreatdealtodowithpersonalcharacter.

           Mr.JanCoggan,whohadpassedthecuptoHenery,wasacrimsonmanwithaspaciouscountenanceandprivateglimmerinhiseye,whosenamehadappearedonthemarriageregisterofWeatherburyandneighbouringparishesasbestmanandchiefwitnessincountlessunionsoftheprevioustwentyyears;healsoveryfrequentlyfilledthepostofheadgodfatherinbaptismsofthesubtly-jovialkind.

           "Come,MarkClark—come.Ther’splentymoreinthebarrel,"saidJan.

           "Ay—thatIwill,’tismyonlydoctor,"repliedMr.Clark,who,twentyyearsyoungerthanJanCoggan,revolvedinthesameorbit.Hesecretedmirthonalloccasionsforspecialdischargeatpopularparties.

           "Why,JosephPoorgrass,yehan’thadadrop!"saidMr.Coggantoaself-consciousmaninthebackground,thrustingthecuptowardshim.

           "Suchamodestmanasheis!"saidJacobSmallbury.

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