Wait a bit, sir,--don't fly at me yet.

There be a boy in this here parish--" "A boy! ah, fool, now you are nearer the mark.

The parson write 'Damn the stocks,' indeed! What boy do you mean ?" "And that boy be cockered up much by Mr.Dale; and the Papisher went and sat with him and his mother a whole hour t' other day; and that boy is as deep as a well; and I seed him lurking about the place, and hiding hisself under the tree the day the stocks was put up,--and that 'ere boy is Lenny Fairfield." "Whew," said the squire, whistling, "you have not your usual senses about you to-day, man.

Lenny Fairfield,--pattern boy of the village.
Hold your tongue.

I dare say it is not done by any one in the parish, after all: some good-for-nothing vagrant--that cursed tinker, who goes about with a very vicious donkey,--a donkey that I caught picking thistles out of the very eyes of the old stocks! Shows how the tinker brings up his donkeys! Well, keep a sharp look-out.