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"Now, Mem, dun't ye muddle the mester's brain t'-night wi' 't, I say. I'm goin' t' 'xperiment myself a bit." Which he did, accordingly, shutting himself up in the smoke-house and burning the compound in divers sconces and Wide-Awake torches, giving up the entire night to his diabolical orgies. Mrs.
The hands of the clock, instead of moving slowly, seemed to progress at a prodigious rate. Mrs. Tams came in "Shall I lay mester's supper, ma'am?" The idea of laying supper for the master had naturally not occurred to Rachel. "Yes, please."
"Well, Joel," she said, calmly, "very disagreeably smelling oil it is, I must say." "Good save the woman!" he broke out, sotto voce, "she's a born natural! Did ye never hear of a shaft? or millions o' gallons a day? It's better nor a California ranch, I tell ye. Mebbe," charitably, "ye didn't know Poke Run's the mester's?" "I certainly do. But I do not see what this green ditch-water is to me.
"Your mester's got hurt," he said. "Eh, dear me!" she exclaimed. "It's a wonder if he hadn't, lad. And what's he done this time?" "I don't know for sure, but it's 'is leg somewhere. They ta'ein' 'im ter th' 'ospital." "Good gracious me!" she exclaimed. "Eh, dear, what a one he is! There's not five minutes of peace, I'll be hanged if there is! His thumb's nearly better, and now Did you see him?"
She wur nowt but a desolate, homely lass, as seemt to ha' no place i' th' world, an' yet wur tender and weak-hearted to th' core. She wur allus longin' fur summat as she wur na loike to get; an' she nivver did get it, fur her brother wasna one as cared fur owt but his own doin's. But theer were one among aw th' rest as nivver passed her by, an' he wur th' mester's son.
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