Whereupon the dog bounded round his feet, and held up its head for one of those caresses which Moses was never known to extend save to his dog.
As they rested together Moses continued:
‘Thaas noan a bad sort, Captain; and thaa'd ha' done a deal more good if aw'd a let thee. Thaa wor awlus fond o' childer', bud they'd never let thee alone. It wor happen as weel if aw'd a bit more o' thi spirit i' me, owd lad; but if there wor more fo'k like thee there'd be less like me.’
And at this Captain wagged his tail with delight, and rubbed his cold nose under the palm of Moses' hand.
‘Aw've gin thee a bad name, owd mon, and they'n tried to hang thee for't; but thaa'll happen do summat some day as they'll tee a medal raand thi neck for, and when thaa'rt deead build thee a moniment.’
And Moses actually laughed at his burst of mirth, which was of rare occurrence in his taciturn life.
Moses' wit, however, was soon cut short, for he started and stayed his monologue at the sight of a child sailing paper boats on the opposite and deeper side of the reservoir,
‘Why, yon's that little lad o' Oliver o' Deaf Martha's!’ exclaimed Moses to himself. ‘What a foo' (fool) his mother mun be to let him marlock on th' Lodge banks by hissel. By Guy! he's i' th' watter!’
At that moment Captain sprang up, and would have leapt after the child, but Moses bade him lie still.
The dog, for the first time in its life, resented the command of his master, and a low, ominous growl came from a mouth that displayed a row of threatening teeth. At this Moses, for the first time in his life too, raised his foot and kicked the brute he had so lately been apostrophizing, and, seizing it by the collar, held it to the spot.