“Oh, father, there aint any harm in reading.”
“I tell ee there is, I aint no ’’pinion of that printed stuff, Patty. When I opens a book it reads all black to me, and whatever’s black’s bad, so folks say, and it arnt that only, this lad is so clever with’ut. I sent him to a day school to get a little scholarship because the vicar wished me to do so, but he soon beat the lot on un, missus inclooded.”
His daughter laughed outright at this speech.
“It be all very well for you to make merry over it, gell; he’s allers got a book in his hand now, arter his day’s work, or what he calls his day’s work, is over.”
“He’s read all I’ve got in the best parlour, and there’s a frightful sight on ’em there, so he gets about borrowin’ books from the neighbours. Blessed if I don’t think he would swallow the biggest library that ever was, and think nuffin of it.”
“Well, he’d better be reading than be getting into mischief.”
“Sam seed him busy about the hedge last evening, and this morning he bein’ fust in the ground went to look at the place, where he found this big leveret ketched in a wire as dead as a door nail.”
“Here he comes,” said Patty, looking through the window.
The farmer gave a sort of a grunt of displeasure, and a tall, light-haired boy ran into the room.
He was full of life and spirits, and as audacious in his manner.