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While her lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and lay right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered.
A bit later, she sat thinking of other remedies limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of sulphur when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and called: "Mite!" "What is it, Zalia?" "Mite, Zeen is ill." "What, ill? All at once?" "Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field." "Is he bad?"
"Whoy, master," rejoined the other, "thou art so woundy like myself, that had I met thee anywhere but in the middle o' these folk, I should have been afeared that I was agoing to die, and had zeen mysel'. My name is George Prescot, at your sarvice. I coom from three miles down the river there; and what may they call thee?" "My name," replied the soldier, "is Charles Sim.
Mite stirred a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went to the sick man's bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking.
Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband's eyes; then she laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it and the crucifix and the holy water. Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, washed him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and his Sunday clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again.
"I'll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won't you, Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is dying." Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man lay. Zeen was worse. "We must sit up with him," said Stanse. "For sure," said Treze.
It seemed to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was a last cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back without him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful.
"Not much of a show," he repeated. "The young uns ull crack up most anything as comes along. But that's their stoopidness. Never zeed nothing better. Law bless 'e, this ain't a patch on the shows I've a' zeen in my day. Cock-fightings, and fellows wi' a lot er money laid on 'em by the gentry too a-pounding of each other till there weren't an inch above the belt of 'em as weren't bloody.
'E be a-jumpin' up an' down, and a-wavin' of his arms laike to one possessed. Ai expec's as how un belaives us 'aven't zeen un, an' wants to attrac' our attention." "Very well, Martin," answered the captain; "stay where you are, man," as he perceived the old fellow making preparations to descend, "stay where you are.
I do not vant notions that are olter than the hills brought to me, and then for beobles to say I haf zeen their pieces and gopied from them. I do not vant to gopy from anypoty. I am Cheorge Dargo. 'I'll bet, said Paul rashly, 'that you haven't met this idea yet. 'My tear poy, Darco answered, 'if you haf cot a new way of bantling an old itea you are ferry lucky.
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