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Updated: July 2, 2025
After a pause, she added 'Does he write with his own hand? 'You mun see for yorsel'. He held it out to her. She looked at it mystified. 'But it's not opened! 'I hadna juist me spectacles, said Father Time, cautiously. 'Mebbee yo'll read it to me. 'But it's to his mother! cried Nelly. 'I can't open your wife's letter! 'You needn't trooble aboot that. You read it, Mum.
I don't care about football. But I love cricket. Why you've got a piano and a new one!" Mason's face cleared again in quite another fashion. "Do you know the maker?" he said eagerly. "I believe he's thowt a deal of by them as knows. I bought it myself out o' the sheep. The lambs had done fust-rate, an I'd had more'n half the trooble of 'em, ony ways. So I took no heed o' mother.
"I s'all not goa and see him, Mr. Cartaret." She was very quiet. "Very good. Then I shall pay you a month's wages and you will go on Saturday." It was then that her mouth trembled so that her eyes shone large through her tears. "I wasn't gawn to staay, sir to be a trooble. I sud a gien yo' nawtice in anoother moonth." She paused.
She's a gay good-lookin female, that I'll confess to, but study her; look at her curls, Davy, an her paint, an her nakedness. For shame, madam! Goo hide that neck o' yourn, goo hide it, I say! An her faldaddles, an her jewles, an her ribbons. Is that a woman a French hizzy like that to get a King out o' trooble, wha's awready lost aw t' wits he wor born wi?
Ef yo mun get into trooble yo medda chawsen battern Jim. What for did I tak' yo from t' Farm an' put yo into t' Vicarage ef 't wasn't t' get yo out o' Jimmy's road? 'E'll naver maarry yo. Nat 'e! Did 'e saay as 'e'd maarry yo? Naw, I warrant yo did na waat fer thot. Yo was mad t' roon affter 'im afore 'e called yo. Yo dirty cat!" That last taunt drew blood. Essy spoke up. "Naw, naw. 'E looved mae.
I'll war'nt he could pick up my old gaffer Jones an' awa' wi' him at his saddle-bow, as easy as Towser does a rotten! But here's good Maister Tetheridge, the clerk, and on great business too, for he's a mun that spares ne time ne trooble in the great cause. 'Room, good people, room! 'cried the little clerk, bustling up with an air of authority.
"Wull," he said at last, "na doot it'd be comfortin' to have a guid weef to care for ye; but they're an awfu' trooble, Ralph, women is, an awfu' trooble." "But you don't know, Uncle Billy; you ain't had no 'xperience." "No more am I like to have. I'm a gittin' too auld now. I could na get me a weef an' I wanted one.
Burnham, who had raised Ralph's head in her arms and was pressing her wet handkerchief against it; "ye're verra gude, but ma mind is to tak' 'im hame an' ten' till 'im mysel'. He was ower-tired, d'ye see, wi' the trooble an' the toil, an' noo I fear me an they've broke the hert o' 'im." Then Bachelor Billy, lifting the boy up in his arms, set his face toward the door.
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