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Jarge left 'is best sledge be'ind 'im, and I my crowbar, and we never went back for them, nor never shall, no." Here Simon paused to mop the grizzled hair at his temples. "I tell 'ee, Peter, that place aren't fit for no man at night. If so be you'm lookin' for a bed, my chap, theer's one you can 'are at 'The Bull, ready and willin'." "An' gratus!" added the Ancient, tapping his snuffbox.
"Jarge," said he, "I'm thinkin' ye'd better tak' Job back to strike for ye again if you'm goin' to mend t' owd screen." "What d'ye mean?" growled Black George. "Because," continued the old man, gathering a pinch of snuff with great deliberation, "because, Jarge, the young feller as beat ye at the throwin' 'im as was to 'ave worked for ye at 'is own price be dead."
"You'm little changed these four years," went on the old man, in a voice that sounded to Stoner as something in a dream, far away and inconsequent; "but you'll find us a deal changed, you will. There's no one about the place same as when you left; nought but me and your old Aunt. I'll go and tell her that you'm come; she won't be seeing you, but she'll let you stay right enough.
Can't you answer me?" "Doan't 'e, Mister Jan; you'm hurtin' my hand. I s'pose as a sou'westerly gale be comin'. Us knaws 'em well enough in these paarts. Faither reckoned theer was dirty weather blawin' up 'fore he sailed. He was away by daylight. The gales do bring trouble to somebody most times." "What will be the end of us, I mean, not of the weather?
She had wound her hair round her head in a large plait and her old black hat made the colour richer. 'You'm nigh on thirty miles to go there and back, unless you get a lift, said Abel. 'A lift? I dunna want never no lifts! said Hazel scornfully. 'You'm as good a walker as John of No Man's Parish, replied Abel, 'and he walks for ever, so they do say.
"Be you'm a-goin', Prue?" inquired the Ancient mumblingly, for his pipe was in full blast. "Yes, gran'fer." "Then tell Simon as I'll be along in 'arf an hour or so, will 'ee, lass?" "Yes, gran'fer!" Always with her back to us. "Then kiss ye old grandfeyther as loves 'ee, an' means for to see 'ee well bestowed, an' wed, one o' these fine days!"
God's mercy! 'T will be killing Clem again if you do! You caan't; you wouldn't dare; theer's black damnation in it an' flat murder now. Hear me, for Christ's sake, if that's the awful thought in you: you'm God's chosen tool in this chosen to suffer an' bring a bwoy in the world Clem's bwoy. Doan't you see how't is? 'Kill yourself'! How can 'e dream it?
Her mind comprehended barely enough to accept his idea in a sense suggested by her acquaintance with fable, and when he instanced a rabbit as an earthly manifestation of the Everlasting, she felt she could cap the example from her own store of knowledge. "I reckon I sees what you'm meanin', Mister Jan. Theer's things us calls witch-hares in these paarts up-long.
You'm growed mighty fancikul all to wance 'bout what us is to do and what us dussn't think o'. I'm sick o' such talk. 'Taint nawthin' else fra' mornin' to night but Adam this and Adam that. I'm darned if 'tis to be wondered at if the maid plays 'ee false: by gosh! I'd do the trick, if I was she, 'fore I'd put up with such fantads from you or either man like 'ee. So there!"
Tell Miss Rose, that if she can spare the time, and it isn't very inconvenient I'd be very much obliged if she could come to see me to-day. You'll remember, won't you?" "Yes, ma'am, I'll tell her you'm bad in bed." "I wish," began Mrs. Perry, then hesitated, her eyes glancing over the shabby little maiden standing by her bedside. "I wish you weren't quite so I wish you were a little tidier."
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