The Money Moon. Jeffery Farnol

Saying which, the Waggoner nodded suddenly and strode off with his pails clanking cheerily.

      Very soon Bellew was shaved, and dressed, and going down stairs he let himself out into the early sunshine, and strolled away towards the farm-yard where cocks crew, cows lowed, ducks quacked, turkeys and geese gobbled and hissed, and where the Waggoner moved to and fro among them all, like a presiding genius.

      "I think," said Bellew, as he came up, "I think you must be the Adam I have heard of."

      "That be my name, sir."

      "Then Adam, fill your pipe," and Bellew extended his pouch, whereupon Adam thanked him, and fishing a small, short, black clay from his pocket, proceeded to fill, and light it.

      "Yes sir," he nodded, inhaling the tobacco with much apparent enjoyment, "Adam I were baptized some thirty odd year ago, but I generally calls myself 'Old Adam,'"

      "But you're not old, Adam."

      "Why, it ain't on account o' my age, ye see sir—it be all because o' the Old Adam as is inside o' me. Lord love ye! I am nat'rally that full o' the 'Old Adam' as never was. An' 'e's alway a up an' taking of me at the shortest notice. Only t'other day he up an' took me because Job Jagway ('e works for Squire Cassilis, you'll understand sir) because Job Jagway sez as our wheat, (meanin' Miss Anthea's wheat, you'll understand sir) was mouldy; well, the 'Old Adam' up an' took me to that extent, sir, that they 'ad to carry Job Jagway home, arterwards. Which is all on account o' the Old Adam—me being the mildest chap you ever see, nat'rally—mild? ah! sucking doves wouldn't be nothin' to me for mildness."