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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Well, Sammy, better be movin' back to our shelterin' roof an' all the comforts of 'ome," began Cleek almost at once, and gulping down the last of his fourth tankard and slouching over to the doorway. A chorus of voices stopped him. "Where you sleepin'?" "Under the 'aystack about 'arf a mile from 'ere," replied Cleek glibly and at a venture. The barmaid's brows knitted into a frown.
"Them savages 'ad better go back to their bows and arrers," exclaimed one of the men, as he saw a shell pitch about half-way short of the hill. "Blowed if they could 'it an 'aystack, the black divils!" His companions laughed, and it did all hands good. Notwithstanding their indomitable pluck, the nervous strain was great, and the laugh relieved them.
"We lay under a 'aystack last night," he said aloud, "and where we'll lie to-night gracious only knows, without some kind soul lends us a 'elping 'and." The lady fumbled in her pocket, and the little girl said to Dickie "Where are all your toys?" "I ain't got but two," said Dickie, "and they're at 'ome; one of them's silver real silver my grandfarver 'ad it when 'e was a little boy."
Which this ain't, not by no means. There's a 'aystack a bit out of the town, if I remember right. Come on, mate." And Dickie for the first time slept out-of-doors. Have you ever slept out-of-doors?
"'Aystack?" she repeated. "There ain't no 'aystack along this road from 'ere to Fetchworth. Bit orf the track, ain't yer?" Cleek retrieved himself at once. "Ain't there? Well, wot if there ain't? The place wot I calls a 'aystack an' wot Lunnoners calls a 'aystack too is the nearest bit of shelter wot comes your way. Manner of speakin', that's all." "Oh!
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