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Updated: May 17, 2025
He was still in the lane, making his way back to the street which would take him into the city, when he was accosted by a little child. "You be the parson," said the child. Mr. Fenwick owned that he was a parson. "Parson from Bull'umpton?" said the child, inquiringly. Mr. Fenwick acknowledged the fact. "Then you be to come with me." Whereupon Mr.
As far as his mind went he thought it a very good thing that the piece of ground should be put to some useful purpose at last. "I'm not sure but what you may be right there," said the lawyer. "It's not been of use, not to nobody, for more than forty year," said the miller. "And before that what did they do with it?" "Parson, as we had then in Bull'umpton, kep' a few sheep." "Ah! just so.
Farmer Brattle, who was a stout man about thirty-eight years of age but looking as though he were nearly ten years older, came up to the Vicar, touching his hat, and then putting his hand out in greeting. "This be a pleasure something like, Muster Fenwick, to see thee here at Startup. This be my wife. Molly, thou has never seen Muster Fenwick from Bull'umpton.
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