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"A very nice man indeed if it wasn't for his face," admitted the old woman, "and I've got to like even his face, because of his gentle and doggy eyes; but I'm sorry, because this shows only too clear the general opinion touching Mr. Cobley is the right one." "And what's the general opinion?" inquired Milly. "That he's come home so poor as he went off," answered Jane Pedlar.
But that was twenty year agone, and Nicholas Bewes had grown oldish himself now, and Jane was thought to be nearer eighty than seventy by her neighbours. Friends she had not, except for Mrs. Cobley; but there's no doubt, though a much younger woman, Mary Cobley had a sort of feeling for Jane; and there was Milly Boon also Jane's orphan niece, who lived along with her and kept house for her.
In fact, Jack told him so; and then Bewes fetched his whisky bottle and they went at it again; and then they closed, and a good bit to farmer's astonishment, Cobley fetched a cheque-book out of his pocket and wrote a cheque on the spot as though to the manner born.
I want for to go to Widdicombe Fair With Bill Brewer, Sam Sewer, Peter Gurney, Harry Hawke, Old Uncle Tom Cobley an' all! "That's old Sinbad an' 'is little lot from the Agatha! Give way, Alf! You might sing somethin', too." "I'm no burnin' Patti. Ain't there noise enough for you, Pye?" "Yes, but it's only amateurs. Give me the tones of 'earth and 'ome. Ha!
HERMIONE COBLEY: Daughter of a cottager who takes in washing. MISS HARVEY: A guest, cousin to Mrs. Haverton, a Unitarian. MRS. HAVERTON is hemming a towel. FIDO is asleep on the rug. MRS. HAVERTON: My dear I hope I do not interrupt you Helen has given notice. Given notice? Who? Helen? Given notice? Bless my soul!
His only companion was a gigantic boatman, by name Harry Hawk, possibly a descendant of the gentleman of that name who went to Widdicombe Fair with Bill Brewer and old Uncle Tom Cobley and all on a certain memorable occasion, and assisted at the fatal accident to Tom Pearse's grey mare. I sat on the seat at the end of the Cob and watched the professor.
But none the less he could do so, when a listener was content not to hurry him, and Nicholas Bewes listened very patient, the more willingly because what Jack had to say interested him a lot. He was a thought put about first, however, because Cobley didn't mince words. "'Tis like this, if I may say so," he began.
Cobley, though her husband left little beyond his cottage, which was his own, took one hundred and fifty pounds per annum for life under the will of the last lady of the Manor of Little Silver. Mary had served her ladyship as maid for fifteen years before she took Cobley, and she was a tower of strength to that important woman and had come to be generously remembered according.
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