“Well, but when folks go woolgathering,” remarked Jinny blandly, “they forget things. I’ll put it in the store, but I won’t be responsible.”
“Tell her I won’t forget it,” roared Will, who was picking up his shears in the gymnastic attitude necessitated by the palpitating sheep between his legs.
“Oi reckon she can yer for herself,” said the shepherd naïvely.
“Of course I can hear,” said Jinny. “But tell him to tell his mother that the bill’s inside.”
“Oi reckon he can yer too,” said the puzzled Peartree.
“He doesn’t listen much to women,” explained Jinny. “You ask him if his family wants anything else from Chipstone.”
“Well, there he stands—you can arx him, can’t you?”
“Well, don’t I stand here, too?” said Jinny. “And why doesn’t he answer?”
“He’s too shy,” sniggered Ravens, and burst out again:
“With a high jig jiggity, tops and petticoats.”