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"Ay, theer's some deep holes hereabouts," said the man, trying in vain to reach the bottom with his long pole. "They wean't dree-ern they in a hurry, Mester Dick." "Good job too, Dave! We don't want our fishing spoiled. Now, then, how much further are you going?" "Strite across to wheer we saw that big pike rise, my lad." "Shall we catch him, Dave?" "Mebbe yes; mebbe no, my lad.
"There'll be straange games among all the fishes and birds here, because he's ketched. Look at him! Theer's a pike, and they're a trying to dree-ern all the watter off from the fens and turn 'em into fields. Hey, lads, it'll be a straange bad time for us when it's done." "But do you think it will take off all the water, and spoil the fen, Dave?" said Tom.
"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains." "Nay, they nivver will," said Dave sourly. "Tek to makkin' boats and punts, mun. Them's best." "Hullo, Dave!" cried Dick; "how about the ruffs and reeves? You said you'd take me to the netting."
"It's a bad thing, Mester Dick, bringing straangers into a plaace. Yow nivver know what characters they've got. Why, I do believe it's a turruble thing to say that some of they lads at work at big dree-ern hevven't got no characters at all." "Here be Hickathrift a-coming wi' doctor," said John Warren.
"Hey bud it'll be a sad job when it's done. But it arn't done yet, lads, eh?" "No, it isn't done yet," said Dick. "I say, where's John Warren? I haven't seen him for months." "I hev," said Dave. "He's a breaking his heart, lads, about big drain. Comes over to see me and smoke his pipe. It'll 'bout kill him if his rabbud-warren is took awaya. Bud dree-ern ar'n't done yet, lads, eh?"
"Yes, and we're going to find out too," cried one rough-looking fellow standing forward. "How do we know as it warn't you?" "Me!" cried Hickathrift, staring blankly. "Ay, yow," roared the great rough-looking fellow, a man not far short of the wheelwright's size. "We've heered all on you a going on and pecking about the dree-ern being made.
"Fen-land's fen-land; and you can't dree-ern that." "You can't dree-ern that," said John Warren, nodding his head in assent. "Well, they'll drain these fields, at all events," said Hickathrift. "Yow can't say they weant do that." "I say fen-land's fen-land," reiterated Dave, taking off his fox-skin cap and rubbing his ear viciously; "and it can't be dree-ernt."
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