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Updated: June 20, 2025
For Ecclesthorpe had a name in its county, owning two families of hereditary professionals, as well as a lord of the manor, who, before the war, had kept wicket in three Test Matches, while the workman's club from Millsborough, captained this year by Dixon Mallaby, a 'Varsity Blue, had already a quarter of a century's repute of being hard to beat.
"'Tis not every Ecclesthorpe fixture," he said, "as we gets a comely wench for maascot. Us be trustin' our hossflesh to you " "Hosses is Grudgers', an' t' lass is mine," interrupted Dick, smiling. "But there be Parson Mallaby to make we mind our manners," objected Redface. "T' cloth," said Dick, "is a good thing. And blood's a better," and so marched his daughter to the front of the brake.
"Parson," he said, "Ah've Ned Blossom's repitation to consider. Ah'll take 'em along easy-like, leastways if you're not in a hurry. Then you gives me the word when us be nobbut half mile from tha pull-up, an' I'll let 'em out champion." "You don't know Ecclesthorpe, then?" said Dixon Mallaby. "I dunno this ro'd," replied Dick.
Seems me tryin' t' buck 'im oop's gone wrong way down. So be you offers no objection, sir, I'll drive 'ee myself. Sam'l Bunce I'm called, and 'tis Ecclesthorpe where us wants to go." The Reverend Mr. Dixon Mallaby looked him up and down with good-humoured scrutiny. "I can't object to being pulled out of a hole," he replied. "And I don't think I should enjoy driving Mr. Grudger's cattle myself."
On their left, in the very outskirts of Ecclesthorpe, was a little stone house, roofed with stone slabs, and surrounded with gardens, bee-hives and flowers. Upon a wooden arch connecting its stone gate-posts was written "Cyclists' Rest. Tea, Minerals." "Um!" said Dick. "'Minerals' always makes me think of museums, but it only means ginger-pop and wuss. Tea's the thing, if brandy isn't."
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