” I knowed he was dead years ago, but I never let on. So when I says he goes to our church, she says:

“What — regular?”

“Yes — regular. His pew’s right over opposite ourn — on t’other side the pulpit.”

“I thought he lived in London?”

“Well, he does.

Where would he live?”

“But I thought you lived in Sheffield?”

I see I was up a stump. I had to let on to get choked with a chicken-bone, so as to get time to think how to get down again. Then I says:

“I mean he goes to our church regular when he’s in Sheffield. That’s only in the summer-time, when he comes there to take the sea baths.”