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"Well then, we may as weel let t' fire goa aat first as last," rejoined the good wife, a little ruffled. "Noa thaa shalln't. I loike a gooid foire as weel as onybody; and if thaa grumbles ony maar, I weant go to th' pit agean."
The young woman looked down on the bundle and nodded her head. "There, that'll do. If you weant, you weant; I've tek'n 'ee back, an' us must fit and make the best o't. The cheeld'll never be good for much born lame like that. But 'twas to be, I s'pose." Lizzie sat dumb, but hugged the bundle closer. "'Tis like a judgment. If your mother'd been spared, 'twudn' have happened.
"Well, Bob," said Mr Inglis, entering the mill, followed by the three boys, each armed with a fishing-rod and basket, big enough apparently to hold a great many more fish than they would catch that afternoon; "Well, Bob," said Mr Inglis, "how are you off for fish?" "Heaps on 'em, sir, down below in the pool; but I'm 'feard they weant feed, for it's rather a bad time.
"Why, you know well enough," said Philip; "and I know you've hid them away somewhere, because you thought we should forget them and not want them any more; so come now, Sam, tell us where they are, or we'll all begin to plague you." "No, I weant," said Sam, throwing off all disguise.
"Nay, but yow weant," said Dave, with a dry chuckle. "Why not?" "Mester Hickathrift has got the stong-gad to mend. One of the tines is off, and it wants a noo ash pole." "Here, stop a moment," said Marston, laughingly interrupting a groan of disgust uttered by the boys; "what, pray, is a stong-gad?" "Ha ha ha!" laughed Tom. "Don't know what a stong-gad is!"
"I've allus taen care that t' moors hae bin cropped fair; thou reckons thou'll feed mair yowes an' lambs on t' moors when thou's bigged thy walls; but thou weant, thou'll feed less. I know mair about sheep nor thou does, and I tell thee thou'll not get thy twee hinds to tend 'em same as a shepherd that's bred an' born on t' moors." "We sal see about that," Metcalfe answered sullenly.
"Yow weant move her like that, I tell you, lad," said Hickathrift. "Won't I!" cried Dick angrily; "but I just will. You Tom, you didn't half push." "Shall I give her a throost?" said the wheelwright, smiling. That smile annoyed Dick, who read in it contempt, when it was only prompted by good temper. "We can do it, thank you," cried Dick. "Now, Tom, boy, give it a heave. Pull up, Solomon."
Then raising his voice and reaching out his arm he would exclaim, "There's noan so bloind as those that weant see! but remember, yo' weant always be able to play th' bloind man, God will crack a thunderbolt close to your ear some day, and yo'll open your eyes to see th' judgment before yo', and then what will yo' say?"
'I see, said he, 'thaa weant be put off; tak' this, and go hoam wi' the'." This story, told in the vernacular of the district, of which this is a very imperfect rendering, and accompanied with Abe's expressive gestures, was exceedingly effective, and not easily forgotten. Nor did he omit the beautiful moral of the parable, showing the necessity of prayer, importunate prayer, prayer at all times.
These were strangers to the dale and less reticent than the men from the farms. "Good-mornin', shipperd. Thou'll be noan sae pleased to set een on us wallers, I reckon," one of them would say. "Good-mornin'," Peregrine would reply. "I weant say that I's fain to see you, but I've no call to threap wi' waller-lads.
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