"The same to you, avick," mumbled out the crone.
"Here's some baccy for you, granny."
"Many thanks to you, Darby. I didn't lay it out for seeing you so airly, the day."
"No, nor you wouldn't neither, only I was passin' this a way, runnin' an arrand for the squire, and I thought I might as well step in and ax you how you wor."
"Good boy, Darby."
"Throth an' it's a hot day that's in it, this blessed day. Phew! Faix, it's out o' breath I am, and mighty hot intirely; for I was runnin' a'most half the way, bekase it's an arrand, you see, and the squire towld me to make haste, and so I did, and wint acrass the fields by the short cut; and as I was passin' by the owld castle, I remembered what you towld me awhile agon, granny, about the crock o' goold that is there for sartin, if any one could come upon it."
"An' that's thrue indeed, Darby, avick,—and never heerd any other the longest day I can remember."
"Well, well! think o' that!! O, then it's he that'll be the lucky fellow that finds it."
"Thrue for you, Darby; but that won't be antil it is laid out for some one to rise it."
"Sure, that's what I say to myself often; and why mightn't it be my chance to be the man that it was laid out for to find it?"