"My house in order? Mine? And what about thine? Thine that is a disgrace to the parish and the talk of the island."
"Keep a civil tongue in thy head, Mrs. Skillicorne, or maybe I'll be showing thee the road at Hollantide."
"Turn me out of the croft, will thou? Do it and welcome! I give thee lave. It would be middling aisy to find a better farm, and Satan himself couldn't find a worse landlord. But set thou one foot on this land until my year is over and if there's a bucket of dirty water on the cowhouse floor I'll throw it over thee. Put my house in order indeed! Where's thy daughter, eh? Where's thy daughter, I say?"
"I've got no daughter, woman, and well thou knows it," said Dan.
"'Deed I do. No wonder the Lord wouldn't trust thee with a daughter of thy own, the way thou's brought up this one. The slut! The strumpet! Away with thee and look for her—it will become thee better."
But Dan having finished his work was now plunging down the glen and old Will Skillicorne had come out of his house half dressed, with his braces hanging behind him.
"Come in, woman—lave the man to God," said Will.
"God indeed! The dirt! The ugly black toad! God wouldn't bemane Himself talking to the like."
"Thou's done it this time, though, I'm thinking. Thou heard what he said about Hollantide?"
"Chut! Get thee back to bed. What's thou putting thy mouth in for? Who knows where the man himself will be by that time?"