us?" An' when Mrs. Izod 'er says as 'er didn't
know, but 'twas to be 'oped as 'twud, a sort of a blight settled down
on the lot on us, which I reckon is a pretty fair way o' puttin' it,
for a blight allus goes 'and-in-'and wi' a drought.

Well, either us finished that evenin' up on cider or us finished the
cider up that evenin'--there warn't much in it one way or t'other.
An' next day--this bit as I'm a-tellin' you now us niver 'eard tell on
till arterwards, but I'm a-tellin' it _yeou_ just as it 'appened--next
_daay_ (that were Sat'rday, mind) there was a turr'ble to-do in the
arternoon, for there warn't nobbut limonade in the house when them
timber-haulin' chaps stopped to waater the engin'. Well, you may
reckon!...

An' then, when us come 'ome from work, us found the door o' The Bell
shut an' locked, an' "Sold Out" wrote on a piece o' cardboard i' the
parlour winder by Reuben Izod's second child! Begad, that was sommut
if yeou like! Us stud there a-gyaupin' an' a-gyaupin', till at last
Peter Ledbetter give a kick at the door and 'ollers out, "Whatten a
gammit do 'ee call this 'ere, Reuben Izod? 'Tis drink us waants, not
tickets for the Cook'ry Demonstration." (Turr'ble sarcastic 'e do be
sometimes, Peter Ledbetter).

"I aren't got none," says Reuben from be'ind the door.

"Well, cider, then," says Bertie Mayo.

"Tall 'ee I aren't got narrun--beer, cider, nor limonade--nary a drop.
'Tiddn' no manner o' good for you chaps to stan' there. You'd best
toddle along up to The Green Dragon an' see if Mas'r Holtom've got
any."

Well, bein' as no one iver yet 'eard tell o' one publican tellin'
ye to go furder a-fild and get sarved by another publican (savin'
as 'twas a drunken man as 'e wanted to be shut on), us was struck so
dazed-like as us went along the road wi' never a word. But us 'adn't
got 'alfway theer afore us met Johnnie Tarplett, Jim Peyton, and a
lot more on 'em all comin' along the road towards we.

"Where be gwain'?" says Johnnie Tarplett.

"Us be gwain' along to The Green Dragon to get a drop o' drink," says
Tom Figgures.

"The Green Dragon's shut 'owever," says Johnnie Tarplett. "Us was
a-gwain' along--"

"Aye, aye!" us sings out. "So's The Bell shut too!"

Well, then us all took and went along to The Reaper, an' _that_ were
shut, an' The Dovedale Arms (which is an oncomfortably superior sort
of a 'ouse, dealin' in sperrits) was down to ginger-wine, an' The
Crown and The Corner Cupboard an' The