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Updated: June 20, 2025
Twitt with a doubtful air "But there's ter'uble things allus 'appenin', an' I sez if warnings is sent to us even out o' the mouths o' babes and sucklings, let's accept 'em in good part. An' if so be a magpie is chose by the Lord as a messenger we'se fools if we despises the magpie.
There it sat, drenched wi' the rain, an' Twitt came out in that slow, silly way 'e 'as, an' 'e sez 'Poor bird! 'Ungry, are ye? an' throws it a reg'lar full meal, which, if you believe me, it ate all up as cool as a cowcumber. An' then " "And then?" queried Mary, with a mirthful quiver in her voice. "Then, oh, well, then it flew away," and Mrs.
I mind me well on the night o' the storm, the very night ye went out on the 'ills an' found 'im, I was settin' at my door down shorewards watchin' the waves an' hearin' the wind cryin' like a babe for its mother, an' if ye'll believe me, there was a sea-gull as came and flopped down on a stone just in front o' me! a thing no sea-gull ever did to me all the time I've lived 'ere, which is thirty years since I married Twitt.
But, mercy me!" concluded Twitt ruminatingly, "I've seen orful queer things bred out of ashes! beetles an' sich like reptiles, an' I wouldn't much care to see the spechul stock as raises itself from the burnt bits of a liar!"
This, and many other conversations he had with Twitt and a certain few of the villagers, showed him that the little community of Weircombe evidently thought of him as being not long for this world. He accepted the position quietly, and passed day after day peacefully enough, without feeling any particular illness, save a great weakness in his limbs.
Twitt, if a cat sneezed, it was a sign that there was going to be sickness in the village, and she always carried in her pocket "a bit of coffin" to keep away the cramp. But with the exception of these little weaknesses, Mrs. Twitt was a good sort of motherly old body, warm-hearted and cheerful, too, despite her belief in omens.
It was a simple ceremony, performed in a spirit of perfect piety, and without any hypocrisy or formality. And when it was all over, and the villagers had dispersed to their homes, Mr. Twitt on his way "down street," as he termed it, from the churchyard, paused at Mary Deane's cottage to unburden his mind of a weighty resolution.
"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Mary, distressed. "Don't even think it!" But Mrs. Twitt was not to be shaken in her pronouncement. "'E'll never come back no more!" she said.
"You take too much upon yourself to speak to me in such a fashion! You should mind your own business!" "So should you, Mister, so should you!" And Twitt chuckled contentedly "An' if ye don't mind it, there's those 'ere as'll make ye!"
"I mean what I sez" rejoined Twitt "I've been stonemason 'ere goin' on now for thirty odd years an' it's allus been the same 'ere no 'Igh Jinks.
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