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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains." "Nay, they nivver will," said Dave sourly. "Tek to makkin' boats and punts, mun. Them's best." "Hullo, Dave!" cried Dick; "how about the ruffs and reeves? You said you'd take me to the netting."
"Oh, there's nowt the matter, Mester Dick!" said Hickathrift good-temperedly, as he picked up the broken harness and examined it. "Why, I could mend all this in less than an hour with some wax-ends and a brad-awl." "Yes, but will you, Hicky?" "Of course I will, my lad. Theer, don't look that how. Go and catch the Solemn-un, and me, and Dave, and John Warren'll get the root up to the yard for you."
"Yes, do, please," cried Dick, eager to get out of his difficulty. "Take the pole." "No, thank you," was the laughing reply. "I cannot handle a pole, and as to finding my way through this fog I could as soon fly." Bang! A heavy dull report of a gun from close by, and Hickathrift started aside and nearly went overboard, but recovered himself, and sat down panting. "Here! hi!
"To see the man punished who shot him, Hicky," cried Dick passionately. "Ay, I'd like to see that, or hev the punishing of him," said Hickathrift, stretching out a great fist. I'm going to find him out yet, and when I do Theer, go and wesh thy faace."
"Well, my lads, what is it?" said the squire, facing them. A tremendous yell broke out, every man seeming to speak at once, and nothing could be understood. "Hullo, Hickathrift! You're there, are you?" said the squire. "What do they want?" "Well, you see, squire," began the wheelwright; but his voice was drowned by another furious yell.
Just then came another faint hail from a distance. "That's Dave," said Hickathrift, smiling all over his broad face; "any one could tell his hail: it's something between a wild-goose cry and the squeak of a cart-wheel that wants some grease." The hailing brought out everybody from the house, Mrs Winthorpe's first inquiry being whether it was the Tallingtons.
"Ay, no one, o' course, so Jacob sawed her i' two one day, and we set her oop theer i' the garden for a summer-hoose, and Jacob painted her green. I say, Mester Dick, ony think," added Hickathrift, laughing violently. "Think what? Don't laugh like that, Hicky, or you'll shake your head off." "Nay, not I, my lad; but it do mak' me laugh." "What does?" "Jacob's married!" "No!"
"They're all asleep." "Let's run faster," cried Dick. "No. We have a long way to go yet," cried the squire, "and if we run faster we shall be too much exhausted to help." "But, father oh, it is so dreadful!" cried Dick, as in imagination he pictured horror after horror. "Can you run, Dick faster?" "Yes, father, yes." "I can't," panted Hickathrift; "I've growed too heavy."
We should be swept no one knows wheer, and do no good to them as wants the help." "But we can't leave them to drown, man!" cried the squire. "No; we can't do that, and we wean't," cried Hickathrift. "They'll get right on the roof if the bed-rooms gets full; and while we're waiting for day we'll have the punt hauled up. Jacob'll howd the light, and I'll see if I can't mend the hole.
But it was not to see John Warren's nor Dave Gittan's grave that Hickathrift led the young men to the one bit of waste land left, and there pointed to a wooden tablet nailed against a willow tree. "The squire give me leave, Mester Dick, and Jacob and me buried him theer when he died.
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