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Updated: May 11, 2025
He forgot to curse James Moore; he forgot to sneer at Owd Bob; he rarely visited the Sylvester Arms, to the detriment of Jem Burton's pocket and temper; and he was never drunk. "Soaks 'isseif at home, instead," suggested Tammas, the prejudiced. But the accusation was untrue. "Too drunk to git so far," said Long Kirby, kindly man. "I reck'n the Cup is kind o' company to him," said Jim Mason.
He could say it with impunity; for the pluck of Postie Jim was a matter long past dispute. Then Jem Burton'd go first? Nay; Jem had a lovin' wife and dear little kids at 'ome. Then Big Bell? Big Bell'd see 'isseif further first. A tall figure came forcing through the crowd, his face a little paler than its wont, and a formidable knob-kerry in his hand. "I'm goin'!" said David.
And then, dang me!" the old man beat the ladder as he loosed off this last titbit, "if he doesna sit' isseif i' door like a sentrynel till 'Enry Farewether coom up. Hoo's that for a tyke not yet a year?" Even Sam'l Todd was moved by the tale. "Well done, oor Bob!" he cried. "Good, lad!" said the Master, laying a hand on the dark head at his knee.
"Did 'Enry Farewether tell yo' hoo he acted this mornin', Master?" he inquired, addressing the man at the foot of the ladder. "Nay," said the other, his stern eyes lighting. "Why, 'twas this way, it seems," Tammas continued. "Young bull gets 'isseif loose, somegate and marches oot into yard, o'erturns milkpail, and prods owd pigs i' ribs.
And as he stands lookin' about un, thinking' what he shall be up to next, oor Bob sees un 'An' what yo' doin' here, Mr. Bull? he seems to say, cockin' his ears and trottin' up gay-like. Wi' that bull bloats fit to bust 'isseif, lashes wi's tail, waggles his head, and gets agate o' chargin' 'im.
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