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Updated: May 26, 2025
I doan't knaw 'tis sich a wonnerful world but them blue eyes them round blue eyes couldn't do a thing as was wrong afore God as wan might fancy," he said aloud, not knowing she was out of earshot. Then he heaved a sigh, returned to the kitchen, and presently departed to the fields. With searching of heart, Mary Chirgwin spent time during that afternoon.
But the snails and woodlice she slew ruthlessly that her uncle might presently come by his five pounds' value of fruit. Mary Chirgwin speedily discovered the task of reforming her cousin was like to be lengthy and arduous.
He hurried snuffling and weeping along as fast as his legs would bear him, and not until he stood at their cottage door did he recollect the calamities which had overtaken the fisherman and those of his household. Uncle Chirgwin began to speak hastily the moment Mrs. Tregenza opened the door. He choked and gurgled over his news. "She'm dead Joan.
Farmer Chirgwin and his men were girt as to the legs in old-fashioned hay-bands; some held torches while others toiled with ropes to anchor the giant rick against the gathering waters. There was no immediate fear, for the pile still stood a clear foot above the stream on a gentle undulation distant nearly two yards from the present boundary of the swollen river.
'Cause the man do bide away, I be wicked; if he comed back to-morrer an' married me what then? I be sinless in the matter of it, an' Nature do knaw it, an' God do knaw it." But her breast heaved and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Uncle Chirgwin, her solitary trust and stand-by, had drifted away too. His hope was dead and she could not revive it.
He spoke to his niece, who was in the room behind him; and as he did so a circumstance of very unusual nature happened. Two persons reached the front door of the farm simultaneously, and a maid, answering the double knock, returned a moment later with two communications, both for Mary Chirgwin. "Postman, he brot this here, miss, an' a bwoy from Mouzle brot t'other."
Thomas Chirgwin seemed mightily transfigured as he spoke. The words came without an effort, but he uttered them with pauses and in a loud voice not lacking solemnity. His head shook, yet he stood firm and motionless upon his feet; and he made his points with a gesture, often repeated, of his open right hand. As for Tregenza, the man listened through all, though he heard but little.
These she put in a jug of water and planted boldly upon the dinner-table as Mrs. Tregenza brought out a pie. "Butivul, sure 'nough," said Mr. Chirgwin, drawing in his chair. His eye was on the pie-dish, but Joan thought he referred to her bouquet. "Lard! what'll 'e do next? Take they things off the table to wance, Joan." "But Uncle Thomas sez they'm butivul," she pleaded.
This, indeed, came to be a privilege not a little sought after. Mary Chirgwin would allow none but herself to perform the last offices of kindness for her cousin. In poor Joan's pocket she found a wet, crumpled mass of paper which might have been dried and read without difficulty, but Mary lacked curiosity to approach the matter.
"I've writ it out all fair in ink 'cordin' as Uncle Chirgwin advised," said Joan. "Fust comes my cheel, then Tom. Uncle sez theer ban't no call to name others. I wanted hisself to take a half on it, but he said theer weren't no need an' he wouldn't nohow." "Quite right," declared Thomasin. "Iss fay! He be a plain dealer an' a good righteous man."
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