'I done or said nout--not but I _should_, and there's the fack--she can't
deny't; she hadn't a hard word from I; and I don't care the top o' that
thistle what no one says--not I. But I tell thee, Milly, I stopped _some_
o' thy pranks, and I'll stop more. Ye'll be shying no more stones at the
cattle.'

'Tell your tales, and welcome, cried Milly. 'I wish I was here when you
jawed cousin. If Winny was here she'd catch you by the timber toe and put
you on your back.'

'Ay, she'll be a good un yet if she takes arter thee,' retorted the old man
with a fierce sneer.

'Drop it, and get away wi' ye,' cried she, 'or maybe I'd call Winny to
smash your timber leg for you.'

'A-ha! there's more on't. She's a sweet un. Isn't she?' he replied
sardonically.

'You did not like it last Easter, when Winny broke it with a kick.'

''Twas a kick o' a horse,' he growled with a glance at me.

''Twas no such thing--'twas Winny did it--and he laid on his back for a
week while carpenter made him a new one.' And Milly laughed hilariously.

'I'll fool no more wi' ye, losing my time; I won't; but mind ye, I'll speak
wi' Silas.' And going away he put his hand to his crumpled wide-awake, and
said to me with a surly difference--