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When he had gone twenty yards, he pulled steadily on one rein and, so to speak, wore his ship of the plains round till we faced the cattle again for I had simultaneously pirouetted Cleopatra on one hind foot. "Fetch 'em back, Jack," said he authoritatively. "Put 'em weare 'e got 'em, an' leab'm boide.
For't most part he'n a big, black bandyhewit wi' him, and, by th' Mess, ey canna help thinkin he meys free sumtoimes wi' yor lortship's bucks." "Ha! this must be looked to," cried the abbot. "You say you know not whence he comes? 'Tis strange." "T' missmannert carl'll boide naw questionin', odd rottle him!" replied Ashbead. "He awnsurs wi' a gibe, or a thwack o' his staff.
"Naw, beleady! boh eyst oppen moine woide enuff," cried Ashbead; "an' if a dozen o' yo chaps win join me, eyn try to set t' poor abbut free whon they brinks him here." "Ey'd as leef boide till to-morrow," said Ruchot o'Roaph's, uneasily. "Eigh, thou'rt a timmersome teyke, os ey towd te efore," replied Ashbead.
Myself I will see to it that you are happy." "I would rather be dead in England than alive in France," the boy answered passionately. "What about you, Blob?" "Here Oi be and here Oi boide," replied Blob doggedly, and dulled the romance of the statement by adding "Oi aren't got ma money yet." "Think twice, Little Chap!" called the Gentleman. "You are young. You are happy. The day is before you.
"Go home, Blob!" said the Parson, patting him. "Home!" pointing, "Home! and stop making a blob o yourself for the present, there's a good boy. Mr. Piper wants you to help him." Blob shook a slow head. "Nay," he said in musical Sussex. "Oi'll boide with Maaster Sir." Here was another boy in a land of men. In a dim way he felt their kinship.
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