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"And yer fadder, I reckon he's found it out too, bein' so lang beholden to others. I met the poor man on the road awhile ago." "It's cold and sappy, Mrs. Garth. Good night," said Rotha. "Poor man, he has to scrat now," said Mrs. Garth, regardless of Rotha's adieu. "I reckon he's none gone off for a spoag; he's none gone for a jaunt."
"Out for a spoag, eh?" "Come, get along, man, and let's have no more botherment," cried one of the impatient passengers. Two or three miles farther down the road Reuben was holding in his horse, in order to cross a river, when he thought that, in the comparative silence of his springless wagon, he heard Robbie speaking behind him. "It's donky weather, this," Robbie was saying.
But when nine o'clock had come and gone, and still the coach stood in the yard of the inn, Robbie's sense of duty overcame his appetite for what he would have called a "spoag." It was usual for the Carlisle coach to await the coach from Lancaster, and it was because the latter had not yet arrived at Kendal that the former was unable to depart from it.
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