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Looking keenly with his little shining eyes at his visitor, he opened the letter, read it, and with the broadest Devon dialect, said 'Zo you mayne tu bee a peinter, doo 'ee? What zort of peinter? 'Historical painter, sir. 'Heestoricaul peinter! Why, ye'll starve with a bundle of straw under yeer head. Presently he read the note again. 'Mr.
"Tush! yo' kin thank yo' stahs he didn't tu'n out no preachah. Preachahs ain't no bettah den anybody else dese days. Dey des go roun' tellin' dey lies an' eatin' de whiders an' orphins out o' house an' home." "Well, mebbe hit's bes' he didn' tu'n out dat way. But f'om de way he used to stan' on de chaih an' 'zort w'en he was a little boy, I thought hit was des what he 'ud tu'n out.
I myzell been o' that zort one taime every bit so well as you be. And Betty held the lanthorn up, and defied me to deny it; and the light through the horn showed a gleam in her eyes, such as I had never seer there before. 'No odds, no odds about that, she continued; 'mak a fool of myzell to spake of it. Arl gone into churchyard. But it be a lucky foolery for thee, my boy, I can tull 'ee.
I des 'proves dis 'casion ter 'zort you ter be keerful w'at you DOES. Dere's gwine ter be mighty ticklish times sorter flash-bang times, yer know. I'se a free man des ez free as air, en I'se hired mysef ter Marse Scoville ter wait on 'im. I'se growed up anuff ter know he kin tek de shine off eny man I eber see, or you neider. He yo' boss now well ez mine.
I will have her, or I will die, Betty." "Wull. Thee will die in either case. But it baint for me to argify. And do her love thee too, Jan?" "I hope she does, Betty I hope she does. What do you think about it?" "Ah, then I may hold my tongue to it. Knaw what boys and maidens be, as well as I knew young pegs. I myzell been o' that zort one taime every bit so well as you be."
Vot vor you loogs so leig a teef in der bentenshry? Vot for you sprachen not mit me ven ich sprachs der blainest zort ov Eenglish mit you? You kooms sneaggin heim Zaturtay nocht leig a tog vots kot kigt, unt's got his dail dween his leks; and ven I aks you in blain Eenglish vot's der madder, you loogs zheepish leig, und says you a'n't tun nodin. I zay you tun sompin.
"I want to see nothing finer or better than what we have seen just now, sir." "There, you be like all varthers, a'most! No zort o' oose to advaise 'un." "Nay, nay! Far otherwise. I am not by any means of that nature. Sir Maunder Meddleby, I have the honour of craving your opinion."
Willyum. Zo it du be. Here du be goings-on! What will t' passon say? Zay, bor, don't 'ee zee a zort o' loikeness atween t' maid and t' Squire? Willyum. Jarge, if you bain't right, lad. Happen she do have t' same nose! Fitzhugh. Ah, my men! I'm your new Squire. Do you know who this is? Willyum. Why, her du be our Rachel. Fitzhugh.
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