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Updated: May 26, 2025
Driving homewards half an hour later, Chris Blanchard told Martin that part of her story which concerned her life after the birth of Timothy. "The travellin' people was pure gawld to me," she said. "And theer's much to say of theer gert gudeness. But I can tell 'e that another time.
An' never tell me no more lies 'bout God helpin' them as helps themselves, 'cause I've proved it ban't so. I be gwaine to furrin' lands to dig for gawld or di'monds. The right build o' man for gawld-seekin', me; 'cause I've larned patience an' caan't be choked off a job tu easy." "Think twice. Bad luck doan't dog a man for ever. An' Phoebe an' the childer." "My mind's made up.
I s'pose the bury-in' might be two days off, or three. I'll step awver to Sancreed bimebye, an' if the undertaker come, Mrs. Bartlett can be with him when he do his work." "Iss, an' I've said as 'tis to be oak braave, bold, seasoned oak, an' polished, wi' silvered handles to it. Her should lie in gawld, my awn Joan, if I could bring it about."
'Tis all chance drawin' of prize or blank in gawld diggin'. The 'new chums, as they call 'em, often finds the best gawld, 'cause they doan't knaw wheer to look for it, an' goes pokin' about wheer a skilled man wouldn't. That's the crooked way things happen in this poor world." "You wouldn't go not while I lived, sure?
"It hurted my arm 'tween the shoulder an' elbow a lil bit at first, but I've grawed used to it now." "How ever shall I repay you, kind Joan, for all your trouble and your long walks and pretty stories?" "I doan't need no pay. If 'twas a matter o' payin', 'twould be a wrong thing to do, I reckon. Theer's auld Bascombe up Paul him wi' curls o' long hair an' gawld rings in's ears.
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