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Updated: July 23, 2025
"Belza burn the lot of ye!" was the squire's prompt expression of his loyalty. Neither protests nor curses served, however, to turn the marauders from their purpose.
"And where are the other justices?" demanded the squire, looking about as if in search of assistance. "The old squire an' the paason wuz at the meetin', an' I guess they knew it 'ud only be wastin' time to attend this pertiklar sittin' of the court." "Belza take them!" cried the squire.
The growing complexity was too much for the patience of the simple-minded owner of Greenwood. "May Belza have us all," he fumed, "if I can see the bottom or even the sides of this criss-cross business. Just tell us a straight tale, lad, if we are not to have the jingle brains." "'T is a swingeing bad business," groaned Phil.
The master of Boxely opened the interview by shaking his fist within a few inches of the rubicund countenance of the master of Greenwood, and, suiting his words to the motion, he roared: "May Belza take yer, yer old " and the particular epithet is best omitted, the eighteenth-century vocabulary being more expressive than refined "fer sendin' my boy ter Boston, wheer, belike, he'll never git away alive."
"Yes," cried the girl, and then roguishly added, "Why, dadda, I'd as soon, yes, sooner, marry old Belza, who at least is a prince in his own country, than see a Byllynge marry a bond-servant." For some weeks following the pledge of Janice, the life at Greenwood became as healthily monotonous as of yore. Both Mr. and Mrs.
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