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Updated: May 6, 2025
They've been lawyers and such like over yonder for a hundred years but she's a Lashmar for all that." "Lord! What's a hundred years?" said Whybarne, who had seen seventy-eight of them. "An' they write too, from yonder my uncle's woman writes that you can still tell 'em by headmark. Their hair's foxy-red still an' they throw out when they walk.
Shall us throw her?" "Toot Hill parish folk, neither grace nor good luck, God help 'em." Old Whybarne shouted the local proverb from three poles down the line. "We ain't goin' to lay any axe-iron to coffin-wood here not till we know where we are yet awhile. Swing round 'er, swing round!"
"I'm due at Burnt House to see about the new well. By the way, there's a sore throat at Gale Anstey " "That's my province. Don't interfere. The Whybarne children always have sore throats. They do it for jujubes." "Keep away from Gale Anstey till I make sure, honey. Cloke ought to have told me." "These people don't tell. Haven't you learnt that yet? But I'll obey, me lord. See you later!"
"I didn't last time neither," Skim roared. After the loud laugh, old Whybarne of Gale Anstey piped feebly, "Well, dirt or no dirt, there's no denyin' Chapin knows a good job when he sees it. 'E don't build one day and dee-stroy the next, like that nigger Sangres."
Besides," she added, looking out of the window, "it would be desertion." George was forced to soothe himself with linking Friars Pardon to the telegraph system of Great Britain by telephone three-quarters of a mile of poles, put in by Whybarne and a few friends. One of these was a foreigner from the next parish. Said he when the line was being run: "There's an old ellum right in our road.
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