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You've slipped young an' maybe theer's half a cent'ry o' years waitin' for 'e to get 'pon the right road; yet you sez you must abide by what you've done. Think how it stands. You've forgived him as wronged 'e, an' caan't the Lard forgive as easy as you can? He forgived you 'fore you was born. I lay the Luke Gosp'lers never told 'e that braave fact, 'cause they doan't knaw it theerselves.
'tweer like sittin' tu near a gert red'ot fire. Her rubbed it in, I tell 'e, same as you rubs salt into a hake. Faither said 'twas braave talk. But you, Joan, what's wrong with 'e, what have you done?" "I ain't done no wrong, Tom, an' you can take my word for't." "Do 'e reckon you'm damned, like what faither sez?" "Never! I doan't care a grain o' wheat what faither sez.
Ten minutes sufficed us to cover the stretch of oil-smooth sea that lay between the Mercury and the Braave, when, passing beneath the stern of the latter in order to reach her starboard side, I again read her name, carved in four-inch letters upon her counter, with the word "Amsterdam", her port of registry.
"Let me take un then," said the mother. "You'm most blind for sleep." "Not a bit of it. I'll have forty winks later, after Doctor's been again." Will here entered, sat down by his mother, and stroked the child's little limp hand. "He ban't fightin' so hard, by the looks of it," he said. "No more he is. Come he sleep like this till dark, I lay he'll do braave."
"Mother's gwaine to town wi' Tom bimebye; then me an' you'll have a talk, uncle, wi'out nothin' to let us. You'm lookin' braave, me auld dear." He liked a compliment, and anticipated pleasure from a quiet afternoon with his niece.
"Bad, bad as heart can wish. A peck o' trouble, by the looks of it. Chris Blanchard be gone vanished like a dream! Mother Blanchard called her this marnin', an' found her bed not so much as creased. She've flown, an' there's a braave upstore 'bout it, for every Blanchard's wrong in the head more or less, beggin' your pardon, missis, as be awnly wan by marriage." "But no sign?
Mrs Maggot observed that they were also armed with a pick and shovel. "Good-hevenin', missus; how dost do?" said the man who walked foremost, in a hearty voice. "Good-hevenin', Eben Trezise; how are you?" said Mrs Maggot. "Braave, thank 'ee," said Trezise; "we've come for a drop o' brandy, missus, havin' heard that you've got some here, an' sure us can smell it eh?"
'T is this way: Bonus be at death's door wi' a smashed nose, an' Blanchard done it; an' Jan Grimbal's vanished off the faace o' the airth. Not a sign of un seed arter he drove away last night from the Jubilee gathering. An' if 't is murder, you'll be in the witness-box, knawin' the parties same as you do; an' the sow 's got a braave litter, though what's that arter such news?"
I'll tell the truth, an' what drove me to desert, an' what you be anyway as goes ridin' out wi' the yeomanry so braave in black an' silver with your sword drawed! That'll spoil your market for pluck an' valour, anyways. An' when I've done all court-martial gives me, I'll come back!" He swung away as he spoke; and the other sat on motionless for an hour after Will had departed.
Look at his sclowed faace all streaming wi' blood! 'S truth! I'd like to sarve you the same, an' I would for two pins! I'm ashamed of 'e!" "He hit wi' his fistes like a gude un," said Will, grinning; "an' he'm made o' the right stuff, I'll swear. Couldn't have done better if he was my awn son. I be gwaine to give un a braave toy bimebye. You see t'other kid's faace come to-morrow!"
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