Porkman

You said distinctly, “I shall see Wright," madam, and in our peculiar position, I should be wrong not to insist on knowing who is Wright. Susan. Wright! —oh, perhaps I did — Wright's the name of the porkman. Downey. The porkman's Wright, is he?

The butcher and the porkman painted up only the leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of meagre loaves.

He is now 14 and still living in Henley, but now in the home of William Horsley—a “grocer and porkman.”