hips enow, dree or vour on 'em. And more
nor a dizzen warranties; fro'ut I know to contrairy. Shutt 'un, us
manes; and shutt 'un, us will--" Whai, Miss Annie, good Lord, whuttiver
maks 'ee stear so?'

'Nothing at all, John,' our Annie answered; 'only the horrible ferocity
of that miserable blacksmith.'

'That be nayther here nor there,' John continued, with some wrath at
his own interruption: 'Blacksmith knawed whutt the Squire had been; and
veared to lose his own custom, if Squire tuk to shooin' again. Shutt any
man I would myzell as intervared wi' my trade laike. "Lucky for thee,"
said Bill Blacksmith, "as thee bee'st so shart and fat, Jan. Dree on us
wor a gooin' to shutt 'ee, till us zeed how fat thee waz, Jan."

'"Lor now, Bill!" I answered 'un, wi' a girt cold swat upon me: "shutt
me, Bill; and my own waife niver drame of it!"'

Here John Fry looked round the kitchen; for he had never said anything
of the kind, I doubt; but now made it part of his discourse, from
thinking that Mistress Fry was come, as she generally did, to fetch him.

'Wull done then, Jan Vry,' said the woman, who had entered quietly, but
was only our old Molly. 'Wutt handsome manners thee hast gat, Jan, to
spake so well of thy waife laike; after arl the laife she leads thee!'

'Putt thee pot on the fire, old 'ooman, and bile thee own bakkon,' John
answered her, very sharply: 'nobody no raight to meddle wi' a man's bad
ooman but himzell. Wull, here was all these here men awaitin', zum wi'
harses, zum wi'out; the common volk wi' long girt guns, and tha quarlity
wi' girt broad-swords. Who wor there? Whay latt me zee. There wor Squire
Maunder,' here John assumed his full historical key, 'him wi' the pot to
his vittle-place; and Sir Richard Blewitt shaking over the zaddle, and
Squaire Sandford of Lee, him wi' the long nose and one eye, and Sir
Gronus Batchildor over to Ninehead Court, and ever so many more on 'em,
tulling up how they was arl gooin' to be promoted, for kitching of Tom
Faggus.

'"Hope to God," says I to myzell, "poor Tom wun't coom here to-day: arl
up with her, if 'a doeth: and who be there to suckzade 'un?" Mark me
now, all these charps was good to shutt 'un, as her coom crass the
watter; the watter be waide enow there and stony, but no deeper than my
knee-place.

'"Thee cas'n goo no vurder," Bill Blacksmith saith to me: "nawbody
'lowed to crass the vord, until such time as Faggus coom; plaise God us
may mak sure of 'un."