e.

'The brook she'd crep' up an' up on us, an' she kep' creepin' upon us
till we was workin' knee-deep in the shallers, cuttin' an' pookin' an'
pullin' what we could get to o' the rubbish. There was a middlin' lot
comin' down-stream, too--cattle-bars, an' hop-poles and odds-ends bats,
all poltin' down together; but they rooshed round the elber good shape
by the time we'd backed out they drowned trees. Come four o'clock we
reckoned we'd done a proper day's work, an' she'd take no harm if we
left her. We couldn't puddle about there in the dark an' wet to no more
advantage. Jim he was pourin' the water out of his boots--no, I was
doin' that. Jim was kneelin' to unlace his'n. "Damn it all, Jesse," he
ses, standin' up; "the flood must be over my doorsteps at home, for here
comes my old white-top bee-skep!"'

'Yes. I allus heard he paints his bee-skeps,' Jabez put in. 'I dunno
paint don't tarrify bees more'n it keeps em' dry.'

'"I'll have a pook at it," he ses, an' he pooks at it as it comes round
the elber. The roosh nigh jerked the pooker out of his hand-grips, an'
he calls to me, an' I come runnin' barefoot. Then we pulled on the
pooker, an' it reared up on eend in the roosh, an' we guessed what
'twas. 'Cardenly we pulled it in into a shaller, an' it rolled a piece,
an' a great old stiff man's arm nigh hit me in the face. Then we was
sure. "'Tis a man," ses Jim. But the face was all a mask. "I reckon it's
Mary's Lunnon father," he ses presently. "Lend me a match and I'll make
sure." He never used baccy. We lit three matches one by another, well's
we could in the rain, an' he cleaned off some o' the slob with a tussick
o' grass. "Yes," he ses. "It's Mary's Lunnon father. He won't tarrify us
no more. D'you want him, Jesse?" he ses.

'"No," I ses. "If this was Eastbourne beach like, he'd be half-a-crown
apiece to us 'fore the coroner; but now we'd only lose a day havin' to
'tend the inquest. I lay he fell into the brook."

'"I lay he did," ses Jim. "I wonder if he saw mother." He turns him
over, an' opens his coat and puts his fingers in the waistcoat pocket
an' starts laughin'. "He's seen mother, right enough," he ses. "An' he's
got the best of her, too. _She_ won't be able to crow no more over _me_
'bout givin' him money. _I_ never give him more than a sovereign. She's
give him two!" an' he trousers 'em, laughin' all the time. "An' now
we'll pook him back again, for I've done with him," he ses.

'So we pooked him ba