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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Well the lil' laass isn' breaaking 'er 'eart fer him, t' joodge by the looks of 'er. I naver saw sech a chaange in anybody in a moonth." "'T assn' takken mooch to maake 'er 'appy," said Mrs. Gale. For Essy, who had informed her, was not subtle. But of Ally's happiness there could be no doubt. It lapped her, soaked into her like water and air.
She was startled from her heaviness by the sharp click of the gate latch, and Malcom entered with two large baskets of strawberry-plants. He had said to her: "Wait a bit. The plants will do weel, put oot the last o' the moonth. An ye wait I'll gie ye the plants I ha' left cover and canna sell the season. But dinna be troobled, I'll keep it enoof for ye ony way."
As he watched her he thought, "If I was to touch her I should break her." Then the conversation began. "I was sorry," he said, "to hear yo was so poorly, Miss Cartaret." "I'm all right now. You can see I'm all right." He shook his head. "I saw yo' a moonth ago, and I didn't think then I sud aver see yo' at Oopthorne again." He paused. "'E's a woonderful maan, Dr. Rawcliffe." "He is," said Alice.
When driven home to sties somewhat more comfortable than the cabins of unfortunate Irishmen, they were well supplied with food which would have been very often considered a luxury by poor Paddy himself, much less by his pigs. "Measter," said the man who had seen them fed, "them there Hirish pigs ha' not feasted nout for a moonth yet: they feade like nout I seed o' my laife!!"
T' think that 'is poor feyther's not in 'is graave aboove a moonth, an' 'e singin' fit t' eave barn roof off! They should tak' an' shoot 'im oop in t' owd powder magazine," said Mrs. Gale. "Well but it's a wonderful voice," said Gwenda Cartaret. "I've never heard another like it, and I know something about voices," Alice said. They had gone up to Upthorne to ask Mrs.
"I s'all not goa and see him, Mr. Cartaret." She was very quiet. "Very good. Then I shall pay you a month's wages and you will go on Saturday." It was then that her mouth trembled so that her eyes shone large through her tears. "I wasn't gawn to staay, sir to be a trooble. I sud a gien yo' nawtice in anoother moonth." She paused.
There was a spasm in her throat as if she swallowed with difficulty her bitter pride. Her voice came thick and hoarse. "Woan't yo' kape me till th' and o' t' moonth, sir?" Her voice cleared suddenly. "Than I can see yo' trow Christmas." The Vicar opened his mouth to speak; but instead of speaking he stared. His open mouth stared with a supreme astonishment.
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