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Updated: June 16, 2025
I most begin to think that cat-a-mountain of a bwoy 's less in her thoughts than he was. She 'm larnin' wisdom, as well she may wi' sich a faither." "I doan't knaw what to think," answered Mr. Lyddon, somewhat gloomily. "I ban't so much in her confidence as of auld days. Damaris Blanchard's right, like enough. A maid 's tu deep even for the faither that got her, most times.
You see this poor child be breedin' trouble, an' bringing bad talk against Will. He ban't wanted little Timothy an' I ban't wanted overmuch, so it comed to me I'd I'd just slip away out of the turmoil an' taake Tim. Then " She stopped, for her heart was beating so fast that she could speak no more.
"You 'm a big, just man, Miller Lyddon; an' if theer was anything could make me sorry for the past which theer ban't 't would be to knaw you've forgived me." "He ain't done no such thing!" burst out Mr. Blee. "Tellin' 'e to go to the Dowl ban't forgivin' of 'e!"
"You frightened her into falsehood. Any girl might have been expected to lie in that position," said Clement coolly; then Mr. Blee, who had been fretting to join the conversation, burst into it unbidden. "Be gormed if I ban't like a cat on hot bricks to hear 'e! wan might think as Miller was the Devil hisself for cruelty instead o' bein', as all knaws, the most muty-hearted faither in Chagford."
An' his black heart happy an' content 'cause he've sent this filth. You stare, wi' your mother's eyes you stare, an' stare. Hell's yawning for 'e, wretched wummon, an' for him as brot 'e to it!" "He doan't believe in hell, no more doan't I," said Joan calmly; "an' it ban't a faither's plaace to damn's awn flaish an' blood no way." "Never name me thy faither no more!
Blee felt a leaden weight about his newly polished boots, and a distinct flutter at the heart, or in a less poetical portion of his frame. "Same auld feeling," he reflected. "Gormed if I ban't gettin' sweaty 'fore the plaace comes in sight! 'Tis just the sinkin' at the navel, like what I had when I smoked my first pipe, five-and-forty years agone!"
There's bin blows struck and violence done, I hear." "I can tell 'e the rest. The bwoy's paid his score an' got full measure. He wanted to be even with you, tu, but they wouldn't let un." "If he ban't dead, I'll make him smart yet for his evil act." "I warned 'e. He was cheated behind his back, an' played with the same cards what you did, and played better." "Wheer is he now?
"No, they ban't gwaine to starve, but my readin' of Will's carater has got to be worked out. Tribulation's what he needs to sweeten him, same as winter sweetens sloes; an' 't is tribulation I mean him to have. If Phoebe's self caan't change me or hurry me 't is odds you won't. Theer's a darter for 'e! My Phoebe. She'll often put in a whole week along o' me still.
I'll go up village for the news in a minute. I lay 'tis knawn theer." "Ban't I tellin' of 'e? 'Tis like this. Will Blanchard's been mixin' a bit of chopped fuzz with the sheep's meal these hard times, like his betters. But now I've seed hisself today, lookin' so auld as Cosdon 'bout it. He was gwaine to the horse doctor to Moreton.
He stood in the roadway, a picture of surprise, and, for a moment, forgot both his sheep and lambs. "My stars, Joan! Be it you really? Whatever do 'e make at Drift, 'pon such a day as this? No evil news, I hope?" "Uncle," she answered, "go slow a bit an' listen to what I've got to say. You be a kind, good sawl as judges nobody, ban't you? And you love me 'cause your sister was my mother?"
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