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Updated: May 15, 2025
The ice won't bear you, and you've got no shelter." The rough fellow shook his head. "Nay, but it wean't rain, and I can sit close to the fire and keep mysen warm." "But you ought to have some cover." "Ay, I ought to hev some cover, and I'll get my punt ashore, and turn her up, and sit under her." "And no wraps! Look here, I shall be warm enough skating back. I'll lend you my coat."
When, however, industry, economy, and patient courage had done all, poor Abe was sometimes almost overwhelmed by hardships, almost, but not altogether. He had a firm faith in God, and used to say, "My Father knows haa mich I can carry to a grain, and He wean't lay a straw too mony upon me, bless Him."
You get well howd o' the band while young squire untwisses the hook. He's 'bout bet out now and wean't mak' much of a fight!" Tom obeyed, and Dick, who was trembling with excitement, set the hook at liberty.
"If you two go on chattering like that we shall get no birds," said Dave sharply. "What a pair o' ruck-a-toongues you are; just like two owd women!" "Well, but the birds are so long coming," said Dick; "I'm getting the cramp. "Plenty; only they wean't show theirsens. Hah!"
"Then may I have a shot at the first heron I see?" "Nay, nay; don't let's scar' the birds, lad. It's netting to-day. We'll shute another time when they wean't come near the net." Dick gave way, and Dave took the pole, to send the light punt skimming over the water, and in and out among the reed-beds through which, puzzling as they would have been to a stranger, he thrust the vessel rapidly.
"Hey, lads, and I thowt you two was such friends!" cried the herald of peace, who had sung truce in so forcible and convincing a way. "Let go, Hicky! He struck me." "Yes; let me get at him," cried Tom. "He knocked me down." "And I'll do it again a dozen times," panted Dick. "Let go, Hicky, I tell you!" "Nay, nay, nay, lads, I wean't let go, and you sha'n't neither of you fight any more.
"In wi' it, lads," cried Dave. "You, young Tom. I wean't stop. Ketch it as we go by." Tom reached over and thrust in the hook, just catching the line as the trimmer seemed to be gliding away. "Something on," he shouted, as he got hold of the line with his hands, and threw down the hook into the boat.
There wean't be a drop o' mysture left in her by and by. Ah! It's a strange world." "It never felt so beautiful before, old man," said John Grange sadly. "Thought I'd try and comfort you up a bit. S'pose you know that Dan Barnett's safe to be the new head?" "Yes, I suppose so, Tummus." "Yah! Means ruins to the grand old place." "Nonsense! Dan is a thoroughly good gardener when he likes."
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