He was all in black, but his friend was dressed in brown, members of two old families.  
"Is there any change in the way you build your houses?" said he in black.
 
"No change," said the other. "And you?"
 
"We change not," he said.
 
A man went by in the distance riding a bicycle.
 
"He is always changing," said the one in black, "of late almost every century. He is uneasy. Always changing."
 
"He changes the way he builds his house, does he not?" said the brown one.
 
"So my family say," said the other. "They say he has changed of late."
 
"They say he takes much to cities?" the brown one said.
 
"My cousin who lives in belfries tells me so," said the black one.
"He says he is much in cities."
 
"And there he grows lean?" said the brown one.
 
"Yes, he grows lean."
 
"Is it true what they say?" said the brown one.
 
"Caw," said the black one.
 
"Is it true that he cannot live many centuries?"
 
"No, no," said the black one. "Furrow-maker will not die. We must not lose furrow-maker. He has been foolish of late, he has played with smoke and is sick. His engines have wearied him and his cities are evil. Yes, he is very sick. But in a few centuries he will forget his folly and we shal............