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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Are you surprised because I am so well?" he asked. She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled the mist out of her eyes. "Aye, that I am!" she said; "but tha'rt so like thy mother tha' made my heart jump." "Do you think," said Colin a little awkwardly, "that will make my father like me?" "Aye, for sure, dear lad," she answered and she gave his shoulder a soft quick pat.
"My word!" cried Mary admiringly, "that there is a bit o' good Yorkshire. Tha'rt shapin' first-rate that tha' art." And delight reigned. They drew the chair under the plum-tree, which was snow-white with blossoms and musical with bees. It was like a king's canopy, a fairy king's.
"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 across.
So when death overtakes him he trusts himself to God as he would to his best friend." "Tha'rt talkin' riddles, Rector!" "No. Ask yourself. When you fell into sin with that woman, did nothing speak to you, nothing try to stop you?" The bright half-mocking eyes below Meynell's wandered a little wavered in expression. "It was the hot blood in me aye, an' in her too. Yo cawn't help them things."
Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. "That there?" she said. "Yes." "That's th' moor," with a good-natured grin. "Does tha' like it?" "No," answered Mary. "I hate it." "That's because tha'rt not used to it," Martha said, going back to her hearth. "Tha' thinks it's too big an' bare now. But tha' will like it." "Do you?" inquired Mary.
He moved so slowly that it scarcely seemed as though he were moving at all, but at last he stood on his feet and then the squirrel scampered back up into the branches of his tree, the pheasant withdrew his head and the rabbits dropped on all fours and began to hop away, though not at all as if they were frightened. "I'm Dickon," the boy said. "I know tha'rt Miss Mary."
Hoo remembers thee, Amanda, an' hoo's never stop't talkin' abaat thee. Tha'rt eight year owder nor hoo is poor lass! hoo's lost her leg sin' thaa seed her. It wor a bad do, aw con tell thee; but hoo's as lively as a cricket, bless her! and often talks abaat thee, and wonders where thaa'd getten to.
Doesn't tha' understand a bit o' Yorkshire when tha' hears it? An' tha' a Yorkshire lad thysel' bred an' born! Eh! I wonder tha'rt not ashamed o' thy face." And then she began to laugh too and they both laughed until they could not stop themselves and they laughed until the room echoed and Mrs. Medlock opening the door to come in drew back into the corridor and stood listening amazed.
Burrill made a stately step forward, properly intent on his duty, and his master waved him back. "Say," he said hastily, "don't bring in any tea. They don't want it. They're Americans." Hutchinson snorted. He could not stand being consigned to ignominy before the footmen. "Nowt o' th' sort," he broke forth. " We're noan American. Tha'rt losing tha head, lad."
"It will be like sitting in a sort of temple," said Colin. "I'm rather tired and I want to sit down." "Eh!" said Dickon, "tha' mustn't begin by sayin' tha'rt tired. Tha' might spoil th' Magic." Colin turned and looked at him into his innocent round eyes. "That's true," he said slowly. "I must only think of the Magic." It all seemed most majestic and mysterious when they sat down in their circle.
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