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"He'll never be good for nowt, but to bide at home an' keep's hands clean. Why, look at Eli Redrup, not older nor our Frank, an' can do a man's work already." "Eli Redrup!" exclaimed Mrs Darvell in a shrill tone of disgust; "you'd never even our lad to a great fullish lout like Eli Redrup, with a head like a turmut!
He could walk the whole length of a turnip-field without taking a munch, unless he were hungry, though even dear old Abel invariably exercised his jaws upon a "turmut." And he made himself ill with hedge-fruits and ground-roots seldomer than any other member of the family. So far, Jan gave less trouble than the rest. But then he had a spirit of enterprise which never misled them.
"Well, of all the pot calling kettle black as ever I knowed on," said Tom Fillot, "that's about the rummest. Why, your head's all o' one side like an ugly turmut, and your eyes is on'y two slits." "We ain't none on us got much to boast on, 'cept our orficer," said Dick Bannock. "Pass that there tin." "To be sure," said Tom Fillot, "and handsome is as handsome does.
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