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He ventured to look at him more directly, and, as he did so, something in the attitude of the proud handsome stripling reminded him of Sandy Sandy, in the days of his youth, coming down to show his prosperous self at the farm. He put his large soil-stained hand on David's shoulder. 'Goo yor ways in, Davy. I'll see yo ha your reets. David opened his eyes at him, astounded.
"Ey, I mind they said she'd run away frae the man she'd wedded somewhere in the north," observed Adam Rutledge through the pewter which he had raised to his lips. "Ower fond of his pot for Sarah." "Nowt o' t' sort," said Matthew. "He used to pommel and thresh her up and doon, and that's why she cut away frae him, and that's why she's sic a sour yan." "Ey, that's reets on it," said Reuben.
I doan't know t' reets on 't missel, but I'st be sorry when yo conno see ony moor where Miss Charlotte an Miss Emily used to sit o' Sundays An theer's th' owd house. Yo used to be 'lowed to see Miss Charlotte's room, where she did her writin, but they tell me yo can't be let in now. Seems strange, doan't it, 'at onybody should be real fond o' that place?
Reets, who had for time immemorial entertained the probable angels who appeared at Mount Pisgah in ministerial guise, remarked that "preacher seemed all tuckered out by that talk; tuk his critter, an' left town 'fore the puddin' was done." That same evening, the sheriff and his deputy, with several special assistants, rode from Mount Pisgah toward Matalette's section.
Robbie had caught up his coat and hat. "Why, where are you going?" said Liza. "Going? Aye? Going?" "Yes, where? You're too weak to go anywhere. You'll have another fever." A light wagon was running on the road outside. Reuben Thwaite was driving. Robbie rushed to the door, and hailed him. "Going off with thread again, Reuben?" "That's reets on't," answered the little man. "Let me in with you?"
They wor coomin to spend Sunday wi us, an it wor an excursion train I niver knew t' reets on 't! She paused and gently wiped away her tears. Her passion had all ebbed. 'An I thowt if I cud ha got 'em home an buried 'em, Davy, I could ha borne it better. But they wor aw crushed, an cut about, an riddlet to bits they wudna let me ha em. And so we kep it fro 'Lias.
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