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Updated: May 28, 2025
Not knowing what he was doing he often did the right thing by instinct he sat beside her, inclining reverentially. "But you mustn't miss your dance," she reproved. "Nay, I don't want to dance that it's not one as I care about." "Yet you invited me to it." He laughed very heartily at this. "I never thought o' that. Tha'rt not long in taking the curl out of me." It was her turn to laugh quickly.
"He's as straight as I am!" cried Dickon. "He's as straight as any lad i' Yorkshire!" What Ben Weatherstaff did Mary thought queer beyond measure. He choked and gulped and suddenly tears ran down his weather-wrinkled cheeks as he struck his old hands together. "Eh!" he burst forth, "th' lies folk tells! Tha'rt as thin as a lath an' as white as a wraith, but there's not a knob on thee.
"Do you go and see those other roses now?" she asked. "Not been this year. My rheumatics has made me too stiff in th' joints." He said it in his grumbling voice, and then quite suddenly he seemed to get angry with her, though she did not see why he should. "Now look here!" he said sharply. "Don't tha' ask so many questions. Tha'rt th' worst wench for askin' questions I've ever come a cross.
That's not going to worry me," Tembarom replied uncombatively. Tummas's eyes bored deeper into him. "Does na tha care?" he demanded. "What should I care for? Let every fellow enjoy himself his own way." "Tha'rt not a bit like one o' th' gentry," said Tummas. "Tha'rt quite a common chap. Tha'rt as common as me, for aw tha foine clothes." "People are common enough, anyhow," said Tembarom.
She saw a cart outside, and went to the door. And the moment she stood in the doorway, she heard a woman's common vituperative voice crying from the darkness of the opposite side of the road: 'Tha'rt theer, ar ter? I'll shame thee, Mester. I'll shame thee, see if I dunna. Startled, Fanny stared across the darkness, and saw a woman in a black bonnet go under one of the lamps up the side street.
"Art tha' th' little wench from India?" he asked. Mary nodded. "Then no wonder tha'rt lonely. Tha'lt be lonelier before tha's done," he said. He began to dig again, driving his spade deep into the rich black garden soil while the robin hopped about very busily employed. "What is your name?" Mary inquired. He stood up to answer her.
Has tha, begun tha' courtin' this early in th' season? Tha'rt too forrad." The bird put his tiny head on one side and looked up at him with his soft bright eye which was like a black dewdrop. He seemed quite familiar and not the least afraid. He hopped about and pecked the earth briskly, looking for seeds and insects.
"He's as straight as I am!" cried Dickon. "He's as straight as any lad i' Yorkshire!" What Ben Weatherstaff did Mary thought queer beyond measure. He choked and gulped and suddenly tears ran down his weather-wrinkled cheeks as he struck his old hands together. "Eh!" he burst forth, "th' lies folk tells! Tha'rt as thin as a lath an' as white as a wraith, but there's not a knob on thee.
"Let him go on playin' an' workin' in the garden an' eatin' hearty an' drinkin' plenty o' good sweet milk an' there'll not be a finer pair i' Yorkshire, thank God for it." She put both hands on Mistress Mary's shoulders and looked her little face over in a motherly fashion. "An' thee, too!" she said. "Tha'rt grown near as hearty as our 'Lisabeth Ellen. I'll warrant tha'rt like thy mother too.
She used the wrong Magic until she made him beat her. If she'd used the right Magic and had said something nice perhaps he wouldn't have got as drunk as a lord and perhaps perhaps he might have bought her a new bonnet." Ben Weatherstaff chuckled and there was shrewd admiration in his little old eyes. "Tha'rt a clever lad as well as a straight-legged one, Mester Colin," he said.
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