"Y' are a prater, Bennet, a talker, a babbler; your mouth is wider than your two ears.

Mend it, Bennet, mend it." "Nay, I say no more.

Have it as ye list," said the retainer.
The priest now rose from the stool, and from the writing-case that hung about his neck took forth wax and a taper, and a flint and steel.

With these he sealed up the chest and the cupboard with Sir Daniel's arms, Hatch looking on disconsolate; and then the whole party proceeded, somewhat timorously, to sally from the house and get to horse.
"'Tis time we were on the road, Sir Oliver," said Hatch, as he held the priest's stirrup while he mounted.
"Ay; but, Bennet, things are changed," returned the parson.

"There is now no Appleyard--rest his soul!--to keep the garrison.