“Rest! Of course; but come—you do know?”
“Yes, Mester Dick,” said the wheelwright stolidly. “I do know, but I sweered as I’d nivver tell, and I’ll keep my word.”
“Ah, well, I will not press you, Hicky! It was a sad time.”
“Ay, my lads, a sad time when a man maks war like that again his brothers wi’ fire and sword, leastwise wi’ goon. That theer fen was like a battlefield in them days, while now it’s as pleasant a place to look upon as a man need wish to see.”
“A lovely landscape, Hicky,” said Dick, gazing across the verdant plain.
“Ay, lad, and once all bog and watter, and hardly a tree from end to end.”
“A great change, Hicky, showing what man can do.”
“Ay, a great change, Mester Dick, but somehow theer are times when I get longing for the black watter and the wild birds, and all as it used to be.”
“Yes, Hicky,” said Dick almost sadly as he saw in memory’s mirror the days of his boyhood; “but this is a world of change, man; we must look forward and not back.”
“Ay, Mester, Dick, ’cause all’s for the best.”