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Updated: June 12, 2025
'Yes, indeed, Holt, I want to travel and see the world at a distance from here. 'If it was no more than that, Mr. John, there would be nothing about it. Zeeing the world! You young collegers allays does that. But be'est thou to come back and be Squoire o'Folking? 'I think not, Holt, I think not. My father, I hope, will be Squire for many a year. 'Like enough.
"Yeigh, squoire!" responded Sparshot, who had seized hold of Nance "hoo be safe enough." "Nan Redferne is no witch," said Richard Assheton, authoritatively. "Neaw witch, Mester Ruchot!" cried the beadle in amazement. "No more than any of these lasses around us," said Richard. "Release her, Sparshot." "I forbid him to do so, till she has been examined," cried a sharp voice.
How are you, Farmer Tetlow?" he added to a stout, hale-looking man, with a blooming country woman by his side "brought your pretty young wife to the rush-bearing, I see." "Yeigh, squoire," rejoined the farmer, "an mightily pleased hoo be wi' it, too." "Happy to hear if, Master Tetlow," replied Nicholas, "she'll be better pleased before the day's over, I'll warrant her.
But how the devil should these rascals expect me? And, above all, how should they conjecture I should come so well provided? For, sooth to say, such is not ordinarily the case with me." "Ey knoa it weel, squoire," replied Nance, with a laugh; boh they ha received sartin information o' your movements."
Do'e tell squoire we longs to heer from him, and has dootings about his not writing himself, and Lifetenant Bottler is smoky. 'This Ruffin, I suppose, then, is your Donald of the Cavern, who has intercepted your letters, and carried on a correspondence with the poor devil Houghton, as if under your authority? 'It seems too true. But who can Addem be?
Fogg, of course, had no hont in the fow deed, boh he would na ha interfered to prevent it if he had bin here, fo' he never scrupled shedding blood. An if he had bin content wi' robbin' yo, squoire, ey wadna ha betrayed him; boh when he proposed to cut your throttle, bekose, os he said, dead men tell neaw teles, ey could howd out nah longer, an resolved to gi' yo warnin."
"The squoire is reet. Wouldee had let thee drown." "What, have you changed your mind already, Jem?" cried Nicholas, in a taunting tone. "You'll have your grandmother's thanks for the service you've rendered her, lad ha! ha!" "Fo' t' matter o' two pins ey'd pitch him again," growled Jem, eyeing the attorney askance. "No, no, Jem," observed Nicholas, "things must take their course.
Mervyn's barge had crossed the lake, I was informed by my landlord, with the squire himself and a visitor. "'What sort of person, landlord? "'Why, he was a dark officer-looking mon, at they called Colonel Squoire Mervyn questioned me as close as I had been at sizes I had guess, Mr.
Did I ever tell 'ee, bor, about t' new squoire o' these parts him wot cum hum yesterday from furren lands? Gaffer Henry wor a-telling me. Thee didst tell 'un, lad, sartain sure thee didst. And Gaffer Henry, he didst tell 'un too. But tell 'un again. It du me good to hear 'un, zo it du. Zure-lie. Jarge. A rackun it be a main queer tale, queerer nor any them writing chaps tell about.
"Say boh t' word, squoire, an ey'n break every boan i' his body," remarked Jem. "No, no, Jem," replied Nicholas. "Take care of your pretty sister, and I'll take care of him."
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