“Every helmet has a spike stickin’ out o’ the top of it,” says the waiver, “and if mine has three, it’s only the grandher it is.”
“Well,” says the housekeeper, getting bitther at last, “all I can say is, it isn’t the first sheep’s head was dhress’d in it.”
“Your sarvint, ma’am,” says he; and off he set.
Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a field hard by where the miller’s horse was grazin’ that used to carry the ground corn round the counthry.
“This is the idintical horse for me,” says the waiver. “He is used to carryin’ flour and male; and what am I but the flower o’ shovelry in a coat o’ mail; so that the horse won’t be put out iv his way in the laste.”
ut as he was ridin’ him out o’ the field, who should see him but the miller. “Is it stalin’ my horse you are, honest man?” says the miller.
“No,” says the waiver; “I’m only goin’ to axercise him,” says he, “in the cool o’ the evenin’; it will be good for his health.”
“Thank you kindly,” says the miller, “but lave him where he is, and you’ll obleege me.”
“I can’t afford it,” says the waiver, runnin’ the horse at the ditch.