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Updated: June 24, 2025
"I s'pose the time when you learned all these knowing things, Mr. Creedle, was when you was in the militia?" "Well, yes. I seed the world at that time somewhat, certainly, and many ways of strange dashing life. Not but that Giles has worked hard in helping me to bring things to such perfection to-day. 'Giles, says I, though he's maister.
And now Robert Creedle will be nailed up in parish boards 'a b'lieve; and noboby will glutch down a sigh for he!" They started for home, Marty and Creedle remaining behind. For a time Grace and her father walked side by side without speaking. It was just in the blue of the dawn, and the chilling tone of the sky was reflected in her cold, wet face.
"I must bring matters to a point, and there's an end of it." When he reached the plantation he found that Marty had come back, and dismissing Creedle, he went on planting silently with the girl as before.
God forbid that a LIVE snail should be seed on any plate of victuals that's served by Robert Creedle....But Lord, there; I don't mind 'em myself them small ones, for they were born on cabbage, and they've lived on cabbage, so they must be made of cabbage.
"Do you think it went off well, Creedle?" he asked. "The victuals did; that I know. And the drink did; that I steadfastly believe, from the holler sound of the barrels.
His reproductions of that talk are often intensely realistic. Nearly every book has its chorus of human grotesques whose mere names are a source of mirth. William Worm, Grandfer Cantle, 'Corp'el' Tullidge, Christopher Coney, John Upjohn, Robert Creedle, Martin Cannister, Haymoss Fry, Robert Lickpan, and Sammy Blore, men so denominated should stand for comic things, and these men do.
Creedle groaned tragically. Melbury, not suspecting the presence of Fitzpiers, coupled this account with the man-trap and the scream; he could not understand what it all meant; but the sinister event of the trap made him follow on. Accordingly, they bore away towards the town, shouting as they went, and in due course emerged upon the highway.
'Not if the angels of heaven come down, Creedle, he said, 'shall you do another day's work for me! Yes he'd say anything anything; and would as soon take a winged creature's name in vain as yours or mine! Well, now I must get these spars home-along, and to-morrow, thank God, I must see about using 'em." An old woman now entered upon the scene. She was Mr.
She made no further objections to accompanying her parents, taking them into the inner room to give Winterborne a last look, and gathering up the two or three things that belonged to her. While she was doing this the two women came who had been called by Melbury, and at their heels poor Creedle. "Forgive me, but I can't rule my mourning nohow as a man should, Mr. Melbury," he said.
A man all skin and grief he ever were, and if he leave Little Hintock for a better land, won't it make some difference to your Maister Winterborne, neighbor Creedle?" "Can I be a prophet in Israel?" said Creedle. "Won't it! I was only shaping of such a thing yesterday in my poor, long-seeing way, and all the work of the house upon my one shoulders! You know what it means?
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