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"A poor thing, but mine own." "Thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns, thaay stwuns." T. HUGHES, Scouring of the White Horse. Magdalen Prescott stood on her own little terrace.
'They will be home to luncheon? said Cicely. 'Aw, no um wunt; they wunt be whoam afore night; thaay got thur nuncheon wi' um. 'Is there no one at home in all the place? I inquired. 'Mebbe Farmer Bennet. Thur beant nobody in these yer housen. So we went on to Uncle Bennet's, whose house was hidden by a clump of elms farther down the coombe.
Perhaps if you chance to be resting by a gate you may hear one of the cottage women telling her children to let the ants alone and not tease them, for 'thaay be God's creeturs. Or possibly the pastor himself may be overheard discoursing to a bullet-headed woman, with one finger on the palm of his other hand, 'That's their serpentine way; that's their subtlety; that's their casuistry; which arguments you may imagine to refer, as your fancy pleases, to the village curate, or the tonsured priest of the monastery over the hill.
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