George looked up, “Uncle Marcus is a belligerent chap.”
His son Davey nodded, sceptical.
“He was determined to be immortalised.”
Another nod, but Davey’s interest was wavering. The young had such low attention spans.
“He never trusted anyone, this way he watches over us daily.”
That made Davey blink.
“Alright the pipe was an afterthought, but if he’s going to set himself there, he might as well be useful.”
“I’m useful,” Uncle Marcus exclaimed sourly.
Predictably Davey fainted, and George sighed, advising the waggoner, “He ain’t got the plague, just met his relative.”
The wagon driver nodded before continuing on.