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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Nay, who kills hares at the end of March, lad? Hares is mad in March." "Is that why it let you catch it, Dave?" "Mebbe, lad, mebbe, Mester Dick. Theer, hev you done stroking her?" "No. Why?" "Going to let her run?" "Wait a bit," cried Dick. "Tek her by the ears, lad, and putt thy hand beneath her. That's the ways."
The hare made one great leap, and then hardly seemed to touch the ground again with its muscular hind-legs; but went off at a tremendous rate, bounding over heath and tuft, till it disappeared in the distance. "There's a sleepy sick one for you, Mester Dick!" cried Dave. "Now, then, goo and ketch her, lad." "Well, I never!" cried Dick. "I say, Dave, how do you manage it? Could you catch another?"
"Ay, mester, and I suppose you are going to spoil it all with your big drain," said the wheelwright, and he ceased poling for a few moments, as the punt entered a natural canal through a reed-bed. "Spoil it, my man! No. Only change its aspect. It will be as beautiful in its way when corn is growing upon it, and far more useful." "Ay, bud that's what our people don't think. Look, Mester Dick!"
Opportunities of getting to Hetty's side would be sure to turn up in the course of the day, and Adam contented himself with that for he disliked any risk of being "joked" about Hetty the big, outspoken, fearless man was very shy and diffident as to his love-making. "Well, Mester Massey," said Adam, as Bartle came up "I'm going to dine upstairs with you to-day: the captain's sent me orders."
Nowt good had come to Mester Adrian from the French Madam. Ah, Mester Adrian had been happy like with her too, and she had taken him away from his home, an' his people, an' sent him back wi'out 's soul in the end. "And now her daughter has come to give it him back," retorted René, as he fell to, with a zest, on the savoury mess he had concocted for his own supper.
"Theer," said Dave as soon as he had done, his proceedings having been carefully watched; "that un do!" "Will the fish go into that net?" said Marston. "Nay, not unless we mak 'em, mester," said Dave, smiling. "Will they, Mester Dick?" "Not they," cried Dick. "Wait a minute, Mr Marston; you'll see."
An' to think as he might ha' Mary Burge, an' be took partners, an' be a big man wi' workmen under him, like Mester Burge Dolly's told me so o'er and o'er again if it warna as he's set's heart on that bit of a wench, as is o' no more use nor the gillyflower on the wall. An' he so wise at bookin' an' figurin', an' not to know no better nor that!"
"Now, then, young mester," he said, "I've got a straange nice lot o' bait and plenty o' hooks and band, and it's about as good a day for fishing as yow could have. Wheer's young Tom o' Grimsey?" "At home, of course!" said Dick in a snappish way, which he wondered at himself. "At home, o' course?" said Dave quietly as he stood up in the boat resting upon the pole. "Why, he were to be here, ready."
"Why, Mester Dick, yow'll have to get root on a sled or she weant move." "Oh, we'll do it directly!" cried Dick. "Here, Tom, you give a good shove behind. Now, then, pull up!" Tom thrust with all his might, while Dick dragged at the donkey's head-stall, and once more, after offering a few objections, Solomon tightened the traces and rope, and tugged with all his might, but the root did not move.
"I'm going in, and I'll take them," said the squire, thus disposing of the difficulty about a messenger. "There's a canister of powder for you, Dave, when you want some more." "Thanky kindly, mester. I'll come and get it when I'm up at house."
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