"Oh ha' mercy, master! there's naught amiss 'at I know. I'm but takin' roost here wi' the owls an' jackdaws a bit, may be for want o' better lyin'."
"It were hard to have a better knack at lying, than thou hast already. Hast gotten the weather into thy lodgings? When didst flit to thy new quarters?"
"Th' hay-mow at Clegg is ower savoured wi' the new crop, an' I want fresh air for my studies."
"Now art thou lying——"
"Like a lover to his sweetheart," said Tim, interrupting him, and finishing the sentence.
"Peace, knave! There's some mischief i' the wind. Thou'rt after no good, I trow."
"What te dickons do I ail here? Is't aught 'at a man can lift off but stone wa's an' ivy-boughs? Marry, my little poke maun ha' summut else to thrive on nor these."
"There's been great outcry about poultry an' other farmyard appendances amissing of late, besides eggs and such like dainties enow to furnish pancakes and fritters for the whole parish. Hast gotten company in thy den above there?"
"Jacks an' ouzles if ye like, Master Gervase. Clim' up, clim' up, lad, an' there'll be a prial on us. Ha, ha! What! our little sweetheart there would liefer t' be gangin'. Weel, weel, 'tis natural, as a body may say:
"One is good, and two is good,
But three's no company."