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Updated: May 29, 2025
Marrowbone the Smith from Crincham he come next day and mended up the gate, only the bool he was tied to a post, and the boy whistled him a tune, or he would have tostid Mr. Marrowbone the Smith." Said Aunt M'riar irrelevantly: "What was the tune he whistled, Dave? You tell Mrs. Prichard what tune it was he whistled!" To which Dave answered with reserve: "A long tune."
Dave thought no explanation necessary, and went on: "Then Farmer Jones he was a horseback, and he rodid acrost the field, he did. And he undooed the gate with his whip to go froo, and it stumbled and let the bool froo, and Farmer Jones he rodid off to get the boy that understoodid the bool. He fetched him back behind his saddle, he did.
There was a grinding crash, a loud yell from the oncoming vessel; the Kestrel went over almost on her beam-ends, and then the stranger scraped on by her bows, carrying away bowsprit, jibboom, and the sails. "Chien de fool Jean Bool, fish, dog!" roared a voice from the side of the large schooner, for such Hilary could now see it was. "Vat for you no hoist light? I run you down."
Already the lamp on Flores's table was lighted, there in the kitchen where Malvey was drinking wine with the old Mexican. Pete had forgotten Boca almost forgotten where he was for the moment, when something touched his arm. He turned a startled face to the girl. She smiled and then whispered quickly, "It is that I hate that 'Bool' Malvey. He is bad. Of what are you thinking, señor?"
Thrale she said a little boy stumbled in the pong and was took out green, and some day I should show Dolly the droyk and I should show Uncle Mo the droyk and I should show Aunt M'riar the droyk. And there was a bool." At which point the speaker suddenly became shyly silent, perhaps feeling that he was premature in referring thus early to a visit of his family to Chorlton-under-Bradbury.
"Pete has not learned to talk yet he is so young?" Malvey slapped his thigh and guffawed. Pete stood solemnly eying him for a moment. Then he turned to the girl. "I ain't used to talkin' to women 'specially pretty ones like you." Boca clapped her hands. "There! 'Bool' Malvey has never said anything so clever as that." "Bool" Malvey frowned.
But first he had to correct a misapprehension. "The bool wasn't in the duckpong. The bool was in Farmer Jones's field, and the field was in the duckpong on the other side. And the dusk was in the pong where there wasn't no green." Evidently an oasis of black juice in the weed, which ducks enjoy.
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