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"Bah!" said Gourville, "who told you that they do not come from Beaugency or from Moit even?" "We have seen no lighter of that shape, except at Orleans. It comes from Orleans, monsieur, and makes great haste." Fouquet and Gourville exchanged a glance.
She's a moit o' weight on me." They went to work again one and all, so relieved by his words that they were doubly strong, but after toiling like giants for a while they were compelled to pause for breath. In falling the boat had so buried herself in the sand that she was harder to move than ever. It had seemed simple enough at first, but it was not so simple, after all.
"I mun go down to th' Mary Anne," he said, "an' work a bit, or we'll ne'er get her turned o'er afore th' tide comes in. That boat's a moit o' trouble." And he sighed heavily. Half-way to the gate he stopped before a cluster of ground honeysuckle, and perhaps for the first time in his life was conscious of a sudden curious admiration for them.
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