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Updated: May 5, 2025
Blee, provided with a theme which always challenged his most forcible diction, discussed Will freely and without prejudice. "I 'most goes in fear of my life, I tell 'e; but thank God 't is the beginning of the end. He'll spread his wings afore spring and be off again, or I doan't knaw un.
Blee, to do him justice, was usually the first afoot at Monks Barton, both winter and summer. The maids who slept near him needed no alarum, for his step on the stair and his high-pitched summons, "Now then, you lazy gals, what be snorin' theer for, an' the day broke?" was always sufficient to ensure their wakening.
Billy had taken an opportunity to tell his master of the general report and spread before him the facts as he knew them. The younger members of the household had retired early, and when Miller Lyddon took the cards from the mantelpiece and made ready for their customary game, Mr. Blee shook his head and refused to play. "Got no heart for cards to-night," he said. "What's amiss, then?
Blanchard, with little Timothy, joined the breakfast party at Monks Barton, and a certain gloom hanging over the party, Mr. Blee commented upon it in his usual critical spirit. "This here givin' in marriage do allus make a looker-on down in the mouth if he 's a sober-minded sort o' man.
He had always greatly admired Blanchard, and, faced with the tempting bait of a florin a week more than his present wage, abandoned Monks Barton and readily followed Will to the Moor. His defection was greatly deplored, and though Will told Mr. Blee what he intended beforehand, and made no secret of his design to secure Sam if possible, Billy discredited the information until too late.
His mind was exalted before the certainty of unutterable blessing; his soul clung to the splendid assurance of a Personal God who had wrought actively upon his behalf, and received his belated atonement. Far behind, Mr. Blee was improving the occasion for benefit of young Ted Chown. "See how he do stride the hill wi' his head held high, same as Moses when he went down-long from the Mount.
There came a morning in early April when their physician, visiting Newtake before noon, broke it to husband and wife that the child could scarcely survive another day. He promised to return in the evening, and left them to their despair. Mrs. Blanchard, however, refused to credit this assurance, and cried to them to be hopeful still. In the afternoon Mr. Blee rode up from Monks Barton.
Blee entered and nodded but did not speak. "Well, what 's the best news? I've brought 'e fair-fashioned weather at any rate. The air 's so soft as milk, even up here, an' you can see the green things grawin' to make up for lost time. Sun was proper hot on my face as I travelled along. How be the poor little lad?" "Alive, that's all. Doctor's thrawed un awver now." "Never!
Young Blanchard appeared, however. He looked weary and hungry, for he had been on his legs during the greater part of the day and had forgotten to eat since his pretence of wedding-breakfast ten hours earlier. Now, newly returned from Exeter, he came straight to Monks Barton before going to his home. Billy Blee was the first to find his voice before this sudden apparition.
Chapple, Charles Coomstock, Mr. Blee, and others, mostly ancient, sat on the granite, inspected the pandemonium spread before them, and criticised as experts who had seen bonfires lighted before the greater part of the present gathering was out of its cradle. But no cynic praising of past time to the disparagement of the present marked their opinions. Mr.
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