Ted stood by with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, smiling to himself.
"Yon's gradely chickens," he remarked presently. "Ye never eat 'em do ye? 'Twouldn't be respectful, I shouldn't think."
"Yon's gradely chickens," he remarked
Margaret vouchsafed no reply. Ted resumed, with bitter sarcasm.
"H'm, mich the same as their r'yal namesakes, I reckon—kept for show an' no manner o' use to nobry."
Margaret hastily scattered the remainder of the grain in her apron, and whisked round.
"Howd your din," she cried angrily, "or else tak' yoursel' off. I'll noan stand by an' hear sich talk i' my place."
Ted, feeling he had made rather an inauspicious beginning, suddenly became lamb-like.
"No offence," he pleaded humbly. "Mun I carry your basin for you into th' house?"