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Updated: May 26, 2025
Then the miller heard of his loss, and, not unnaturally, took the business ill. "Gormed if it ban't open robbery!" declared Mr. Blee, as he sat and discussed the matter with his master one evening, "an' the thankless, ill-convenient twoad to go to Blanchard, of all men!" "He'll be out of work again soon enough. And he needn't come back to me when he is. I won't take him on no more."
"An' what better word should 'e have?" piped Billy, who in the space of half a minute had ranged himself alongside his master. "You to question the word o' Miller Lyddon, you crooked-hearted raven! Who was it spoke for 'e fifteen year ago an' got 'em to make 'e p'liceman 'cause you was tu big a fule to larn any other trade? Gert, thankless twoad!
She was excited t' other day an' not mistress of herself ezacally; an' the crafty twoad took advantage of it, an' jawed, an' made her drink an' drink till her didn't knaw what her was sayin' or doin'. But she'm mine, an' she'll tell 'e same as what I do; so theer's an end on 't." "I'll see Mrs. Coomstock," said the Vicar. "I, myself will visit her to-morrow."
He had bad luck Coomstock the worse fortune as ever fell to a Chaggyford man, I reckon." "How do 'e come at that, then?" "To get 'e, an' lose 'e again inside two year. That's ill luck if ever I seen it. Death's a envious twoad. Two short year of you; an' then up comes a tumour on his neck unbeknawnst, an' off he goes, like a spring lamb." "An' so he did.
Look at thicky cat, breakin' her heart, poor twoad!" Mr. Bartlett was justly angry that Joan could dare to thus class his priceless red-headed twins with a litter of dead kittens, and he said more than was wise, ramming home a truth, and that coarsely. "Theer's plenty more wheer them comed from, I lay. Nachur's so free, you see tu free like sometimes.
An' us all had some fine talk for more'n an hour, an' he was proper faither to me, if you'll credit it; an' he drinked a glass o' your wine, mother, an' said he never tasted none better and not much so gude. Then us seed un off, an' Phoebe cried again, poor twoad, but for sheer happiness this time. So now the future's clear as sunlight, an' we'm all friends 'cept here an' theer."
"Pharaoh's a soft-'earted twoad to this wan," he declared gloomily. "It do beat me to picksher sich a man. I've piped to en hot an' strong, as Joan knaws, but he ban't gwaine to dance 'tall seemin'ly. Poor sawl! When the hand o' the Lard do fall, God send 'twon't crush en all in all. 'Saved' him dear, dear!" "The likes of Tregenza be saved 'pon St.
Blanchard's cottage and announced it promiscuously about the village. Like a dog with a bone he licked the intelligence over and, by his delay in imparting the same, reduced his master to a very fever of irritation. "Such a gashly thing! Of all fules! The last straw I do think. He's got something to grumble at now, poor twoad. Your son-in-law; but now theer gormed if I knaw how to tell 'e!"
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