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"Damn him, you can hear his beastly voice all over the place." "Ef yore yoong mon's dead set to larn fa-armin', an' ef 'e've got a head on 'is shoulders our Jem can larn 'en. Ef 'e 'aven't, ah tall yo stra-aight, Mr. Ollyveer, ye med joost's well tak yore mooney and trow it in t' mistal." Roddy laughed. "I could have told them that," he said. "Money?" "Rather.

"'E've a-spoke about us stoppin'; so as Mettie goes out to sarvice." "'E've a-spoke about what 'e don't know 'bout, then. Let un do what they like, they can't put Tom Gaunt about; he can get work anywhere Tom Gaunt can, an' don't you forget that, old man." The old man, placing his thin brown hands on his knees, was silent. And thoughts passed through and through him.

"Let un alone," cried Simon, "'e've got another chance yet." "Much good it'll do 'im!" "Ah! might as well give in now, and take 'is thrashin' and ha' done wi' it." That my ruse had succeeded with the crowd was evident; they to a man believed I had done my best, and already regarded me as hopelessly beaten.

Panting, I watched it rise, rise, rise, and then plunge down to earth in a smother of dust. "'E've beat it!" cried the Ancient, flourishing his stick excitedly. "Lord love me, 'e've beat it!" "Ay, 'e've beat it, sure-ly," said a man who carried a rake that was forever getting in everybody's way. "An' by a goodish bit to!" shouted another.

"Why, ye see," said George, somewhat diffidently, "ye see, Peter, Gaffer be so old! and all 'is friends be dead, and he've come to look on this 'ere ghost as belongin' to 'im a'most. Loves to sit an' tell about it, 'e do; it be all 'e've got left to live for, as ve might say, and now you've been and gone and said as theer bean't no ghost arter all, d'ye see?" "Ah, yes, I see," I nodded, "I see.

"I bin all acrost that way," said the boot-boy, pointing with his stumpy black forefinger, "and then acrost that way, an' Mister Jenks" Jenks was the gardener "'e've gone about in rings, 'e 'ave. And there ain't no sign nor token, mum, not a sign there ain't." From behind him sounded the voice of the gardener, thrashing among the trees. "Miss Joan!" he roared. "Hi! Miss Jo-an!

To work hard, but without too great method, to drink hard, but with perfect method, and to talk nineteen to the dozen anywhere except at home was his mode of life. In a word, he was a 'character. Old Gaunt sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, and spoke. "Sir Gerald 'e've a-just passed." "Sir Gerald 'e can goo to hell. They'll know un there, by 'is little ears."

"W'at be that the Old Un be you alive an' kickin' yet?" "Ay, God be thanked, John!" "And w'at be all this I 'ear about that theer Black Jarge 'e never were much good but w'at be all this?" "Lies, mostly, you may tak' your oath!" nodded the Ancient. "But 'e've been took for poachin', ah! an' locked up at the 'All " "An' we 'm goin' to fetch un we be goin' to see Squire " "W'at you, Old Un?