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Updated: August 3, 2024
The meaning of the Vicar's sermon became plain next morning, when he walked down to the village and called on Joel Hugh, the carpenter. "I knows what thee'rt come after," began Joel, "but 'tis no use, parson dear. Th' old fellow owns the roofs over us, and if I do a day's work for 'ee, out I goes, neck and crop." Mr. Raymond had expected this.
Remember; he is but my servant; thee'rt my son my only son." Alas! my poor father, it was hard enough for him to have such an "only son" as I. In the middle of the night or else to me, lying awake, it seemed so there was a knocking at our hall door. I slept on the ground flat, in a little room opposite the parlour.
"Kepital kepital. Give mothaw my love." "E'es be shure. Fainely plaized her'll be to hear thee'rt zo naicely adrest. Her'd maäde up her maind, pore zowl, that arl your buttons ud be out, wi' nobody to zee arter 'en. But I declare thee'rt drest laike a topsawyer." And with this a dead silence fell between the two.
It is quite enough reward that I have been useful to my master, and that he acknowledges it." My father thought a minute, and then offered his hand. "Thee'rt in the right, lad. I am very much obliged to thee, and I will not forget it." And John blushing brightly once more went away, looking as proud as an emperor, and as happy as a poor man with a bag of gold.
Only the words, "Not to-night; I won't do it to-night," reached the ears of the listeners. At this point Tonkin turned from the smuggler with a fling, muttering in an undertone as he went, "I don't b'lieve 'ee, Cuttance, for thee'rt a liard, so I'll watch 'ee, booy." Oliver was about to follow Tonkin, when he observed Hitchin himself slowly wending his way through the crowd.
It was a long waiting until they came home my father and John. At daybreak I saw them standing on the doorstep. A blessed sight! "O father! my dear father!" and I drew him in, holding fast his hands faster and closer than I had done since I was a child. He did not repel me. "Thee'rt up early, and it's a cold morning for thee, my son. Go back to the fire."
I reckon he will have all thine, Tom; Jim Parkin told me that tha' spent four shillings at the Thorn and Thistle last night." "Well, what if I did?" asked Tom. "Ay, it's noan my business, but I think thee'rt a fool. If a lass like Alice Lister took up wi' me, I would not throw myself away on Polly Powell. Thou'lt ne'er mak' much on 'er. She'll lead thee a dog's life, Tom, and tak' all tha' brass."
"`Ye haaf saved bucca, ye mazed totle, that can only frighten women an' child'n, an burn housen; thee'rt fond o' singin' an' dancin' dance now, will 'ee, ye gurt bufflehead, or ef ye waant I'll scat thee head in jowds, an' send 'ee scrougin' over cliffs, I will." In justice to the narrator it is right to say that these words are not so bad as they sound.
And Jacob Baines, the big, gaunt, savage fellow, who had been the ringleader the same, too, who had spoken of his "little 'uns" came and looked steadily in John's face. "I knew thee as a lad; thee'rt a young man now, as will be a father some o' these days. Oh! Mr.
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