“What did they dew baout the taxes?”

“Why don't ye speak, man?”

“What's the matter on ye?” were some of the volley of questions with which the people hailed their chop-fallen deputy on his return, crowding forward around him, plucking his sleeves and pushing him to get his attention, for he regarded them with a dazed and sleep-walking expression. Finally he found his voice, and said:

“Squire says ez haow they didn' dew nothin.”

There was a moment's dead silence, then the clamor burst out again.

“Not dew nothin?”

“What d'ye mean, Laban?”

“Nothin baout the taxes?”

“Nothin baout the loryers?”

“Nothin baout the sheriffs' fees?”