There was Ben Weatherstaff's indignant face glaring at them over the wall from the top of a ladder! He actually shook his fist at Mary.
"If I wasn't a bachelder, an' tha' was a wench o' mine," he cried, "I'd give thee a hidin'!" He mounted another step threateningly as if it were his energetic intention to jump down and deal with her; but as she came toward him he evidently thought better of it and stood on the top step of his ladder shaking his fist down at her.
"I never thowt much o' thee!" he harangued.

"I couldna' abide thee th' first time I set eyes on thee.

A scrawny buttermilk-faced young besom, allus askin' questions an' pokin' tha' nose where it wasna, wanted.

I never knowed how tha' got so thick wi' me.

If it hadna' been for th' robin-- Drat him--" "Ben Weatherstaff," called out Mary, finding her breath.