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Updated: May 22, 2025
"They'm 'Seven Sisters," said her grandfather; "they had overgrown the other things so much that I had to cut them back, and her ladyship told me to bring them home to you." "Oh, thank you!" said Jessie delightedly. "What are the seven sisters called, granp? What is their real name? Of course they must have names." Her grandfather did not understand her for the moment. "What are they called!
And when us see they sodgers go past I thought no other than he'd a set off then and there. As I said to un, ''Tis true you knows o' they that's gone, but how can 'ee tell how many's left behind?" Joan shook her head. "They'm all off," she said: "every man of 'em's gone; but, for all that, Adam mustn't come anighst us or show his face in the place.
A visible anticipation of the effect about to be produced stirred the small red-coated company, and they wheeled round so as to take note of any sudden emotion produced by the surprise they felt sure awaited the assembly. "Whatever is it, eh?" asked Joan, trying to catch a better sight of what was going on. "They'm stickin' up a noo reward, 't seems," said an old man close by. "'Tain't no "
They'm allus the same, an' they puts thots in my head that's good to think; an' I must go my ways, Polly, same as you go yours." When night came Joan slept within the mystic circumference of the glen-ader; and that she derived a growing measure of mental satisfaction from its embrace is unquestionable.
His ladder under his arm, a billsticker appeared to post up on a blank wall facing the baker's a proclamation by the Commune apportioning the rations of butcher's-meat. Passers-by halted to read the notice, still sticky with paste. A cabbage vendor going by, basket on back, began calling out in her loud cracked voice: "They'm all gone, the purty oxen! best rake up the guts!"
"They'm gashly things, rats, an' I shouldn't think as no good piskeys would turn into varmints like them." "More should I. But something better than rats came to see me last night, Joan. Guess who it was." "I dunnaw." "Why, you came!" "Me, Mister Jan! You must a bin dreamin'!" "Yes, of course I was; but such a lovely dream, Joan!
"Maybe 'tis troublin' of 'e, sir?" "I've promised you. I always keep my word. I shall be here to-morrow about mid-afternoon, because it is lonely and quiet and beautiful. I'm going to try and paint the gorse, all blazing so brightly against the sky." "Them prickly fuzz-bushes?" "Yes; because they are very beautiful." "But they'm everywheres. "They are beautiful, too.
"This time I be no cleverer than my letters. 'Twas Joe Kerridge's wife, next dower the cottage, said, 'Ta'ak it on to the Granny at Dessington. And says I to her, 'They'm gotten the sa'am yoong ma'an to write 'em love-letters, I says. 'You couldn't tell they two letters apart, but for the neams on 'em. And then Mrs.
"The crosses be very well, an' coorious, butivul things to see 'pon the land tu, but they'm poor food to a body's sawl. They caan't shaw wheer you'm out; they caan't lead 'e right." "Iss they can, then, an' they do," declared Joan. "The more I bide along wi' 'em the better I feel an' the nearer to God A'mighty, so theer!
When he and Franky Drake du get over there a spoilin' the Egyptians, as one might say, there be no knowin' how long they'll stay there. I don't look to see 'em back till they'm able to come wi' their ships loaded wi' Spanish gould; and it'll take a mort o' time to vind six shiploads o' gould," returned Tom.
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