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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Wal, that's all right, only ef you ever want ter sell, reasonable-like, yer know who to come to for your money. Good-night!" The man was gathering up his reins when Nimbus said: "When did yer say ole Mahsr's funeral was gwine ter be?" "To-morrow afternoon at four o'clock, I heerd." "Thank ye. I'se 'bout made up my mind ter go ter Louisburg to-morrer, stay ter dat funeral, an' come back nex' day.
"They wouldn't go to put me in the Bible, o' course." "Oh yes, you could be quite sure, Mrs. Wallis," said Margaret, gently. "Because if God was making you and had a plan for you, as the poem says, He would be sure to put down something in His book about it, don't you think? He would want you to know." "It does sound reasonable-like now, don't it?" said the woman, wistfully.
"I'll go and do a bit of shoutin' to Spruce, deaf as he is, he's more reasonable-like than his old 'ooman!" With this resolve, he went his way by a short-cut through Abbot's Manor gardens to a small thatched shelter in the woods, known as 'the foresters' hut, where Spruce was generally to be found at about sunset, smoking a peaceful pipe, alone and well out of his wife's way.
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