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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Goodness pity him," said his sister Bridget. "It's a cruel perishin' night, and snowin' thicker. Where'll he get to at all? And carryin' nought but an old stick. We'd better ha' kep' him." "Sure we couldn't ha' stopped him anyhow," said the blacksmith, "no more than one of them flustherin' blasts goin' by.
"She's fast asleep," said he, "and the old woman says she'll call me if I'm needed in the night, and you'll have to jump up sharp and overhaul that medicine-case if that happens." The next morning, and very early in the morning, I was awaked by Uncle Beamish, who stood at my side. "Look here," said he, "I've been outside. It's stopped snowin' and it's clearin' off.
A child, qualified by legislation and his fourteen years to brace his soft-boned shoulder against the flank of life, bent his young spine double to the weight of two iron exit doors that swung outward and open. A gale of snow and whistling air danced in. The crowd turned about, faced, thinned, died. Mrs. Violet Smith turned a rose-white face to the flurry. "Snowin'!"
"It's a dreadful day," said Mrs. Melrose sharply. "Does it always rain like this?" "Well, it do rain," was Thyrza's cautious reply. "But there that's better than snowin' for t' shepherds." Mrs. Melrose found the girl's voice pleasant, and could not deny that she was pretty, in her rustic way. "Has your father many sheep?" "Aye, but they're all gone up to t' fells for t' winter.
We're certainly not asking for more cold." "It will hurt us, ef we don't take some shelter ag'in it. It's snowin' now, colonel, an' ef it gits a little warmer it'll turn to rain, an' it kin rain pow'ful hard in these mountings." "Thank you for calling my attention to it, Mr. Reed. I can't afford to have the troops soaked by winter rains.
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