'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin—that's what I call them tramps!' she cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in general.
CHAPTER XXXVII
AT NEWMINSTER
'We come off pretty well,' said Chippy—'lost naught but my stick.'
'I'll show you where to out another afore we get to Newminster,' said Mrs. Slade—'a place where my man often cuts a stick. 'Tis a plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north. Heavy, holdin' ground, too—just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.'
She went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the horse's head, and set him to his task again.
'I fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in Newminster to-night, Chippy,' said Dick.
Chippy grunted in a dissatisfied fashion. The Raven was very keen on doing the trip for the smallest possible outlay of money. It seemed to him so much more scoutlike to live on the country, as they were fond of saying, and to pay for shelter did not seem to be playing the game.
Dick nodded. 'I know what you mean,' he said, for he had quite understood Chippy's grunt. 'But we're bound to make Newminster, and send off a card to show we've been in the town.'