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Updated: June 29, 2025
He was up and off by three o'clock this morning, and knocked up the Widow Polkinghorne, trying to borrow a pick and shovel." "Pick and shovel!" My grandfather stopped working and slapped his thigh. "Then he's the man that 've walked off with mine: and a biddicks too." "He said nothing of a biddicks, but he's quite capable of it." "Surely in the midst of life we are in death," said my grandfather.
"Some person 've a-stole my shovel, pick, and biddicks." "Nonsense!" said the Parson. "The corpse won't find it nonsense, Sir, if I don't get 'em back in time. I left 'em lying, all three, at the bottom of the grave overnight." "And now they're missing?" "Not a trace of 'em to be seen." "Someone has been playing you a practical joke, Calvin.
The man caught sight of the Parson at the window, and set down his tools inside the gate shovel and pick and biddicks. "Good-mornin'! I may come inside, I suppose?" says he, in a gruff tone of voice. He came up the path and the Parson unlatched the window, which was one of the long sort reaching down to the ground. "My name's Bligh," said the visitor, gruff as before. "You're the Parson, eh?
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