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Tom, and set yoursen up with 'em somehow, if it's true as the master's broke. They mayn't go fur enough, but they'll help." Tom was touched keenly enough to forget his pride and suspicion.
He tried again and again, but there was no bottom within reach, and the lad handed back the pole. "Why, you knew it was too deep here!" he cried. "Ay, I knowed, lad," said Dave, taking the pole; "but yow wouldn't hev been saddisfied wi'out trying yoursen."
"Well, Mester Taft," shouted old Martin, at the utmost stretch of his voice for though he knew the old man was stone deaf, he could not omit the propriety of a greeting "you're hearty yet. You can enjoy yoursen to-day, for-all you're ninety an' better." "Your sarvant, mesters, your sarvant," said Feyther Taft in a treble tone, perceiving that he was in company.
There's one chap carries pots, a poor, low trade as any on the road, he says, 'Why Toby's nought but a mongrel; there's nought to look at in her. But I says to him, 'Why, what are you yoursen but a mongrel? There wasn't much pickin' o' your feyther an' mother, to look at you. Not but I like a bit o' breed myself, but I can't abide to see one cur grinnin' at another.
'Oh! yo want to know abeawt Jenny Crum's pool, do yo? he said at last in a low agitated voice. 'Nobbut look, my lad! nobbut look! an see for yoursen. He paused, his chest heaving, his eye fixed. Then, suddenly, he broke out in a flood of passionate speech, still gripping David. 'Passon Maine! Passon Maine! ha yo got her, th' owd woman?
"Theer's noa house to be had nearer than Pengarth yo' know that yoursen an' how are we to be waakin' fower mile to our work i' t' mornin', an' fower mile back i' t' evening? Why, we havena got t' strength! It isna exactly a health resort yo' ken Mainstairs!"
But when he found that his friend meant to take him prisoner, he became very angry and much alarmed. And when John Broom grasped him by both legs and began to descend, Cocky pecked him vigorously. But the boy held the back of his head towards him, and went steadily down. "Weel done!" roared the farm-bailiff. "Gently, lad! Gude save us! ha'e a care o' yoursen. That's weel. Keep your pow at him.
"No more have you, Meaister," retorted one of the biggest of the boys, a rustic lout of sixteen. "You ain't got the plook t' go inside yoursen!"
I hate to see a man's arms drop down as if he was shot, before the clock's fairly struck, just as if he'd never a bit o' pride and delight in 's work. The very grindstone 'ull go on turning a bit after you loose it." "Bodderation, Adam!" exclaimed Wiry Ben; "lave a chap aloon, will 'ee? Ye war afinding faut wi' preachers a while agoo y' are fond enough o' preachin' yoursen.
'Theer's Aunt Hannah shoutin. I mun goo an get t' coos. David ran down the hill with her. 'What'll yo do if I tell? she inquired maliciously at the bottom. 'If yo do I shall cut at yance, an yo'll ha all the longer time to be by yoursen. A darkness fell over the girl's hard shining gaze.
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