D. Then jump into the oven. A little more baking will make thee no worse.
[Duffy pushes Huey back into the oven with the fire-prong, till he gets out of sight, when the Squire comes in, calling,—
Squire. Jane, take the hares and rabbits; be sure hang them out of the way of the dogs.
D. Give them to me, master; Jane is gone to bed. The wind from her stomach is got up in her head, at least so she said.
S. Why, who is here, then? I heard thee speaking to some one as I opened the door.
D. I was driving away a great owl, master, that fell out of the ivy-bush on the top of the chimney, and came tumbling down through the smoke, perched hisself there on the end of the chimney-stack; there he kept blinking and peeping, like a thing neither waking nor sleeping, till he heard the dogs barking, when he stopped his winking, cried out, “Hoo! hoo!” flapped his wings, and fled up the chimney the same way he came down.
D. Now, master, you had better go up in the hall; you will find there a good blazing fire.
[The Squire examines his legs by the fire-light.
S. Well, I declare, these are the very best stockings I ever had in my life. I’ve been hunting, since the break of day, through the bogs and the brambles, the furze and the thorns, in all sorts of weather; and my legs,—look, Duffy, look—are still as dry and sound as if they had been bound up in leather.
D. Then take good care of them, master; for I shall soon have a man of my own to knit for. Huey and I are thinking to get married before the next turfey season.