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Updated: September 28, 2025
Well, my son, and how can I serve you?" asked the master of Monks Barton, kindly enough. He recrossed his legs, settled in his leather chair, and continued the smoking of a long clay pipe. "Just this, Mr. Lyddon," began Will abruptly. "You calls me your 'son' as a manner o' speech, but I wants to be no less in fact." "You ban't here on that fool's errand, bwoy, surely?
"That he will!" said Joan, but Mrs. Tregenza shook her head. "I did sadly want en to be a landsman an' 'prenticed to some good body in bizness. It's runnin' 'gainst dreams as I had 'fore the bwoy was born, an' the voice I heard speakin' by night arter I were churched by the Luke Gosp'lers. But you knaw Michael. What's dreams to him, nor yet voices?"
Then you'll find a bwoy wi' the key theer to-morrer, an' all vitty; an' you can pay in advancement or arter, as you please to. Us'll say half-a-crown a week, if that'll soot 'e." The listener produced half-a-sovereign, much to Farmer Ford's gratification, and asked that a lad or man might be found to return with him there and then to the shed.
I doubt us'll hear he's bin knocked overboard or some sich thing some day; an' them two brothers, they Pritchards, as allus sails 'long wi' Tregenza, they'm that comical-tempered every one knaws. Oh, my God, why couldn' he let the bwoy larn a land trade carpenterin' or sich like?" "But, you see, faither's a rich man, an' some time Tom'll fill his shoes.
Upon it appeared the basket from Drift, stored with cream, butter, eggs and apples. Thomasin sat in the low chair by the fire with her apron over her face, and that was always a bad sign, as Tom knew. "What day be this, bwoy?" began Michael. "The Lard's, faither." "Ay: the Lard's awn day, though you've forgot it seemin'ly." "No I abbun, faither." "Doan't 'e answer me 'cept I tells you to.
Then, as they came between the arms of the harbor, as they shipped oars and glided to the steps, Tregenza's hybrid yellow dog, who accompanied the fisherman in all his goings, jumped ashore barking and galloped up the slippery steps with joy; while, at the same moment, a woman's sharp cry cut the air like a knife and two wild eyes looked down into the boat. "Wheer'm the bwoy, Michael?
Then the Gosp'lers well, they'm cold friends to the young. A bwoy like him caan't feel religion in his blood same as grawed folks." "Small blame to en," said Joan promptly. "Let en go to church an' hear proper holy ministers in black an' white gownds, an' proper words set down in print, same as what I do now."
Theer's some dark thought under it, I'll lay, or else he wants to come around 'e again." His master doubted not that Billy was dreaming, but he went aloft and looked to convince himself. In silence and darkness they watched Will at work. Then Mr. Blee asked a question as the miller turned to go. "What in thunder do it mean?" "God knaws, I doan't. The man or bwoy, or whatever you call un, beats me.
Then it hollered like a gude un, an' stretched out its arms, an' I seed 'twas livin' an' never thought how it comed theer. He 'in somethin' smaller than our purty darling, yet like him in a way, onless I'm forgetting." "'Tis like," said Damaris, dandling the child and making it happy. "'Tis a li'l bwoy, two year old or more, I should guess. It keeps crying 'Mam, mam, for its mother.
"I hope 't was vain talk an' not true anyway." "More talk 'bout me? You'd think Chagford was most tired o' my name, wouldn't 'e? Who was it now?" "Him Jan Grimbal. I met him 'mong the mushrooms. He burst out an' said wicked, awful things, but his talk touched the li'l bwoy. He thought Tim was yourn an' he was gwaine to do mischief against you." "Damn his black mind!
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