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But whether he understood the impetuous inconsequence of her temperament "after a fashion," or whether he failed entirely to follow the complexity of her thought, he met all her fancies with a sort of tender admiration. People said that Squire Hall was henpecked; they also said that he had married beneath him.

"We're gettin' old, Jefferson, and misfortune has come to us. Squire Sheldon has got a mortgage on the farm and it's likely we'll be turned out. You've come just in time to see it." "Is it so bad as that, Uncle Cyrus? Why, when I went away you were prosperous."

"Don't you remember how fond he was of quoting, 'Praise to the face is open disgrace'?" The late Sir Timothy, like many middle-class people, had taken a compliment almost as a personal offence; and regarded the utterer, however gracious or sincere, with suspicion. Neither had the squire himself erred on the side of flattering his fellow-creatures.

"I wish I was as rich as a squire when he's as poor as a crow," he murmured; "I'd soon ask Fancy something." "I wish so too, wi' all my heart, sonny; that I do. Well, mind what beest about, that's all." Smart moved on a step or two. "Supposing now, father, We-hey, Smart! I did think a little about her, and I had a chance, which I ha'n't; don't you think she's a very good sort of of one?"

Of the two best known versions of the ballad, the one here given is the more poetical by far; the other, however, contains the account of the courage of Hugh Widdrington which has made the gallant squire immortal.

Plume's statement was that he had been off on private business and had met with an accident. The nature of this "accident" was evident in his appearance. Keith was hardly surprised when, a day or two after the rumor of the girl's disappearance reached him, a heavy step thumping outside his office door announced the arrival of Squire Rawson.

Bad luck to it for potteen-work every day it rises! only for it, that couple's poor orphans wouldn't be left without father or mother as they were; nor poor Hurrish go the gray gate he did, if he had his father living, may be; but having nobody to bridle him in, he took to horse riding for the squire, and then to staling them for himself.

"I have about four hundred acres on hand, and I keep my accounts pretty regularly." "Johnson is a very good man, I dare say," said the baronet. "Like most of the others," continued the squire, "he's very well as long as he's looked after. I think I know as much about it as Johnson. Of course, I don't expect a farmer's profit; but I do expect my rent, and I get it."

Their screeching often echoed through the open casement of the gunroom. A faint mark on the sward trended towards this hollow; it was a trail made by the squire, one of whose favourite strolls was in this direction. This summer morning, taking his gun, he followed the trail once more.

The knight was no antiquary, but as he looked about him his curiosity was excited: "What can have happened here?" he said, and his squire wondered also, and followed his master. The latter led his horse to the edge of the water to let him drink, for though he had seen many watercourses in the land, he had found nothing in them save stones, and boulders, and sand.