"I'd dearly like to coax her here also; but perhaps that would be a thought too rough," he said.
"Yes, we can't do that. I'm not desirous to hurt her at all. 'Tis him I'm aiming at—just to let the gas out of him a bit and larn him that he ain't under the special care and charge of Providence, but have to share the rough edge of things along with his betters."
William nodded.
"Of course you've got proof positive," he said.
"I have—my own eyes and another pair. Besides that I've got her, come to think of it. You know her fashion. 'Tis true, I reckon, that she never told it; but when 'tis blowed, she won't deny it, whatever the farmer might be tempted to do. Anyway, he's at death's door, so we shan't hurt him."
"If 'twas a thing of yesterday, I should be rather frightened of the job," confessed William. "But seeing the matter's five years old and more—what's the odds to any sensible person?"
"Quite right. If they let it hurt 'em—more fools them. Anyway, the man's no friend to me, or anybody else, for all his cant. He's brought this on himself."
"There—that's about all I can do for this pair of legs," said William. "Now we'll lock up and be gone. Come and see 'Sarah Jane.' You'll want to kiss her when I've painted her!"