“Look at me, schoolmaster. I can read a newspaper, make out a bill though it’s seldom called for i’ my trade, thank the Lord, write a letter, and what more do I want? How could I tell the points of horse or beast if mi head wer’ allus running on th’ olden times an’ chokefull o’ a lot o’ gibberish, saving your presence, an’ no offence, Mr. Black, as well yo’ know. We can’t all be schoolmasters, nor yet parsons an’ as for lawyers and doctors aw’ve very little opinion o’ awther on ’em, an’ th’ less yo’ have to do wi’ ’em th’ better. Not but what a cow doctor’s a handy man to ha’ wi’in call; but th’ lawyers! Aw’ve had three trials at th’ Assizes abaat one watter-course on another. An’ lost one case an’ won two, an’ th’ two aw won cost me no more nor th’ one aw lost. No! Th’ lad’s fit for better things nor a black gown. He’s getten th’ spirit o’ a man choose wheer it comes fro’. Aw put him on Bess’s back t’other day, wi’out a saddle an’ his little legs could hardly straddle fro’ flank to flank, an’ he catched her bi th’ mane an’ med her go round th’ field like a good ’un. He rolled off into th’ hedge at th’ Bottom Intack, an’ ’steead o’ sqwawkin’ and pipin’ he swore at Bess like a trooper an’ wanted puttin’ up again. Oh! He’s a rare ’un, that he is. Larnin’s thrown away on him. It ’ud nobbut over-weight an’ handicap him, so to speak.”

“I’m sorry to hear of the lad swearing,” interposed Mr. Black.

“That’s Work’us Jack’s teachin’,” commented Mrs. Schofield. “It’s surprisin’ how easy th’ young ’uns ’ll pick up owt they shouldn’t know, when ther’s no brayin’ what they should know into their little heads.”

“Well, well,” went on Mr. Redfearn, to get out of a sore subject, for he had recognised some of his favourite expletives in Tom’s scholeric words; “th’ point is, th’ lad’s handier wi’ his hands nor his head piece. Yo’ can tak’ a horse to th’ watter but yo’ cannot mak’ him drink. An’ talkin’ o’ watter, th’ young scoundrel gave me a turn t’ other day an’ no mistake. Yo’ know th’ dam aboon Hall’s papper-mill? Weel it’s th’ deepest dam bi a seet for miles round here. Aw’d gone up wi mi gun to see if aw could pick up a rabbit or two for th’ pot an’ theer wor Tom reight i’ th’ middle o th’ dam, throwin’ up his arms an’ goin’ dahn like a stun, and then he cam up blowin’ like a porpus. Aw’ sent th’ retriever in after ’im an’ th’ young devil, ’at aw should say so, cocked his leg over th’ dog’s back an’ med him, carry ’im to th’ bank, an’ ’im laughin’ all th’ time fit to crack his young ribs. He’d nobbud pretended to drown to fley me.”

“Jack’s doing again,” said Mr. Schofield.

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