And all the babbling of their chiding and crowing and laughter comes across the babbling of the brook to the ears of the old gaffers gossiping on the wall. Gaffer I. spits out an over-munched stalk of meadow soft-grass, and speaks: "D'ye see yon chap?" But he beats me. And see there! he's t'first that's beat me yet. Why, lad!