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Updated: May 6, 2025
The next minute it had received a chop on the back of the neck, ceased struggling, been transferred to Magglin's pocket, and the net was spread over the hole again. "That's a bad farret, ain't it, Master Mercer?" said Magglin, showing his teeth. "You'd best sell un back to me; I should be glad on it for five shillings." "Hush! I thought I heard one, Magg," whispered Mercer, ignoring the remark.
"Then I 'spose it's their ferret in yon burrows, eh? there it is!" he continued, as the buff-looking, snaky animal now came out of one of the holes close by us, and Mercer stooped and picked it up as it made for the dead rabbit. "Oh yes, it's their farret, 'tarn't mine," said Magglin quickly. "Yes, it's my ferret, Mr Hopley," Mercer said dolefully. "And their nets, eh? Here, you stand still.
"As good a farret as ever run along a hole." "As bad a one as ever stopped in and wouldn't come out again." "And you turn like that on a fellow." "You're a cheat, Magg, and you took us in. That was your old ferret you sold me, and I wish I'd never paid you a shilling." "Nay, not you. It's a good farret, and you've only paid me four shillin' out of them five."
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