"You _be_, you _be_ a Nature's cheel. Us all be, but awnly a few
knaws it."
Tom laughed at this idea mightily.
"Well, I'll slip back long, Joan; an' if I be a Nachur's cheel, I be; but I
guess I'll keep it a secret. If I tawld faither as I dedn' b'lieve in no
auld devil, I guess he'd hurry me into next world so's I might see for
myself theer was wan."
They walked a little way together. Then Tom grew frightened and stopped his
companion. "Guess you'd best to be turnin'. Folks is 'bout everywheer in
the fields, bein' Sunday, an' if it got back to faither as I'd seed you,
he'd make me hop."
"D'you like the sea still, Tom?"
"Doan't I just! Better'n better; an' I be grawin' smart, 'cause I heard
faither tell mother so when I was in the wash'ouse an' they thot I wasn't.
Faither said as I'd got a hawk's eye for moorin's or what not. An' I licked
the bwoy on Pratt's bwoat a fortnight agone. A lot o' men seed me do't. I
hopes I'll hit so hard as faither hisself wan day, when I'm grawed.
Good-by, sister Joan. I'll see 'e agin when I can, an' bring up a feesh
maybe. Doan't say nothin' 'bout me to them at the farm, else it may get
back."
So Tom marched off, speculating as to what particular lie would best meet
the case if cross-questioning awaited him on his return, and Joan watched
the thickset little figure very lovingly until it was out of sight.
CHAPTER NINE
MEADOWSWEETS
June came.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274