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'Tis all wan now. Wanton or no wanton, she've flummoxed me this day. The giglot lied an' said the thing that was not. She'm not o' the Kingdom the fust Tregenza as ever lied the fust." "God send it edn' as bad as it do look, master. 'Er caracter belike ban't gone. S'pose as she'm married?" "Hould your clack, wummon. I be thinkin'." He was thinking, indeed.
He hurried snuffling and weeping along as fast as his legs would bear him, and not until he stood at their cottage door did he recollect the calamities which had overtaken the fisherman and those of his household. Uncle Chirgwin began to speak hastily the moment Mrs. Tregenza opened the door. He choked and gurgled over his news. "She'm dead Joan.
Bartlett answered: "The unhappy creature was fine an' emperent to me 'bout a matter o' drownin' chets in the spring. Yet here she'm drowned herself sure 'nough. Well, well, God's will be done." "Her eyes do make me wimbly-wambly in the stomach," declared the second laborer; "when you've done talkin', Gaffer Polglaze, us'll go up-long, an' the sooner the better." "Butivul eyes, tu, they was wance.
A sense of immanent grief was on her, grey loneliness and fear of the future. He tried to comfort her. 'Dunna say ought! she sobbed. 'You canna run the words o'er your tongue comfortable like Ed'ard can! 'What do you want me to say? 'I dunno. I want our Foxy. 'I'll fetch her in the morning. 'No, you munna. She'm safe at Ed'ard's. Let her bide. I want to be at Ed'ard's, too.
"Oh, well, I didn't mean that way ... that's a trouble for the children too when they grow up ... worse than for the mother. That's why it's wicked to have them like that. I meant if one were married." "It's not all honey then, my dear. Look at Jenny Trewen down to the church-town. She'm never had naught but boys, and she sticks every virtue on that maid she always wanted and that never came.
Mingled with the swift appreciation of the humour of himself as tutor to the arrogant Vassie was a pang of reproachful conscience. "What does your mother say?" he temporised; "and Vassie?" "Mother's willen, only she did say you was so took up with the lil'un you wouldn't take no account of Vassie, seeing she'm only a bastard like the rest of us.
I don't think Dennis O'Moore could help sympathizing with people, and as a result of this good-natured weakness, he heard a great deal about that young lady of colour, and her genteel clothes, and how she played the piano, and belonged to the Baptist congregation. "I've a cousin myself in Demerara, Alfonso," said Dennis. "Hope she'm kind to you, Dennis.
An' Joan doan't 'e say it doan't 'e say 'tis true she'm dead not my lil treasure gone dead; an' me, ever since I went, countin' the days an' hours 'gainst when I should come back?" "Ay, my poor lad, 'tis true all true. An' worse behind, Joe. Hip an' thigh us be smitten all gone from us; my awnly wan drownded my awn bwoy; an' Michael's brain brawk down along o' it.
Poor dear sawl, she'm dead an' gone, an' she loved 'e wi' all her 'eart, as I, what knawed her, can testify to." "No more o' that," he said, "the gal's comin'. Thank God she ban't no cheel o' mine thank God, as 'ave tawld me 'tedn' so. He whispered it, an' I put it away an' away. Now I knaws. You bide here, Thomasin Tregenza, and I'll speak what's fittin'."
Haas, with his nice big car, will drive us all home again. You know Mr. Haas, dearie Lester's uncle that had us drove so careful in his fine car. You remember, dearie Lester's uncle?" Mrs. Horowitz looked up, her old face crackling to smile. "My grandchild! My grandchild! She'm a fine one. Not? My grandchild! My grandchild!" "You mustn't mind, Mr. Haas.
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