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Updated: June 5, 2025
"And you think it questionable whether it be a sail at all?" he continued. "He'm sartain nothing but a fly-away," returned the obstinate black. "You hear what your friend the negro says, master Fid; he thinks that yonder object, which is lifting so fast to leeward, is not a sail."
"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone." "Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un." "Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much "
But has he signals abroad?" "He'm got t'ree new cloths in he maintop-gallant royal, sir." "His vessel is all the better for the repairs. Did you see his flags?" "He'm show no flag, masser." "I thought as much myself. Go forward, lad stay one often gets a true idea by seeking it where it is not thought to exist. Of what size do you take the stranger to be?"
"Oughts are noughts, onless they've strokes to 'em," declared Billy. "'Tis a poor lookout, for he'm the sort as buys experience in the hardest market. Then, when it's got, he'll be a pauper man, with what he knaws useless for want o' what's spent gettin' it. Theer's the thought o' Miss Phoebe, tu, Mrs. Blanchard, I should say. Caan't see her biding up to Newtake nohow, come the hard weather."
Wait till he'm grawed from baby to bwoy, from bwoy to man; wait till he'm all you've got left in the cold, starved winter of a sorrowful life; an' wait till he'm brought home to 'e like this here, while you've been sittin' laughin' to yourself an' countin' dream gawld.
"He'm a weak sapling of a man, if you ax me. Allus grumblin', an' soft wi' it as I knaw none better," said Blanchard, watching Bonus struggle with the rabbit netting. "He's out of his element, I think a student a bookish man, like myself." "As like you as chalk's like cheese no more. His temper, tu! A bull in spring's a fule to him. I'm weary of him an' his cleverness."
"He's dead Uncle he went quite sudden at the end; an' he'm to lie to Chagford wi' gran'faither an' gran'mother." "Dead! My God! An' I never seed un more! The best friend to me ever I had leastways I thought so till this marnin'." "You may think so still." "Ess, so I do. A kind man inside his skin. I knawed un better'n most people an' he meant well when he married me, out of pure love to us both."
Laughter was smothered, talk whispered. "He'm a-practisin' his spaches." "Smoke the cunnin' old vox out!" "Red pepper's the proper stuff." "See men sneeze! We've a-screed up the door." Then, as a face showed at the lighted window, a burst of harsh laughter broke the hush. He at the window was seen struggling violently to wrench away a bar. The laughter swelled to hooting.
He'm waitin' for my money, an' I've told un he's to have it. But 'twas only to make the sting bite deeper when the time comes. Not a penny not a farthing him or any of 'em." Mommet = scarecrow. "Don't get angry with him. He's not worth it. Tell me if I can help you and how. You'll be up and about again soon, I hope." "Never. Not me. Doctor Parsons be to blame. I hate that man.
He'm watchin' over Drift for your sake, my girl, an' the farm prospers along o' the gert goodness o' the watchin' Lard. Iss fay, He fills all things livin' with plenshousness, an' fats the root an' swells the corn 'cause He'm breathin' sweet over the land 'cause He'm wakin' an' watchin' for you, Joan." "He'm watchin' all of us, I s'pose just to catch the trippin' footstep, like what faither sez.
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