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Had Peckaby been a little less fond Of the seductions of the Plough and Harrow, his suspicions must have been aroused. Unfortunately, Peckaby yielded unremittingly to that renowned inn's temptations, and spent every evening there, leaving full sway to his wife and Brother Jarrum.
"I hope you'll ask him, sir, when he comes to, whether it were not that thing in the pound as frightened him. I took it for some'at else, more's the grief! but it looks, for all the world, like a ghost in the moonlight." "What is in the pound?" demanded Jan. "It's a white cow," responded Susan Peckaby. "And it strikes me as it's Farmer Blow's.
Duff, caused a divertisement, especially agreeable to Susan Peckaby. The unhappy Dan, by some unexplainable cause, had torn the sleeve of his new jacket to ribbons. He sheltered himself from wrath behind Chuff the blacksmith, and the company began to pour in a stream towards the tables.
'Twas more nor an hour ago, and I've been able to do nothing since, but sit here and weep; I couldn't redd up after that." "Warn't it the quadrepid?" asked Peckaby in a mocking tone. "No, it weren't," she moaned. "It were nothing but that white pony of Farmer Blow's." "Him, was it," said Peckaby, with affected scorn.
And Susan Peckaby, a robe of purple, of the stuff called lustre, laid up in state, to be donned when the occasion came, passed her time, night and day, at her door and windows, looking out for the white donkey that was to bear her in triumph to New Jerusalem. In the commodious dressing-room at Verner's Pride, appropriated to its new mistress, Mrs.
The flour looked brown, and the butter was running away in an oily stream; but that was no reason why a shower of broken glass should be added to improve their excellences. Mr. Peckaby, with white gills and hair raised up on end, stood, the picture of fear, gazing at the damage, but too much afraid to start out and prevent it. Those big men are sometimes physical cowards.
"You'd like to ruin poor Peckaby, I suppose, sir!" "I have nothing to do with Peckaby. If public rumour is to be credited, the business is not Peckaby's, but yours " "Them that says it is a pack of liars!" burst forth Roy. "Possibly. I say I have nothing to do with that. Peckaby " Lionel's voice faltered.
"Don't you never get married, Polly Dawson, if you want to keep on the right side of the men. They be the worst animals in all creation. Many a poor woman's life has been aggrivated out of her." "If I do get married, I shan't begin the aggrivation by wanting to be off to them saints at New Jerusalem," impudently returned Polly Dawson. Mrs. Peckaby received it meekly.
Peckaby, in his tantrums, would not have been likely to spare it. She put it on, and hooked it down the front, her trembling fingers scarcely able to accomplish it. That it was full loose for her she was prepared to find; she had grown thin with fretting. Then she put on a shawl; next, her bonnet; last some green leather gloves.
"It must be give to you in private." Mrs. Peckaby, in a tremble of delight, led the stranger to a small shed in the yard, which she used for washing purposes, and called the back 'us. It was the most private place she could think of, in her fluster.
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