"We canna gan withoot some kindling; when you canna keep it dry, peat is
ill to light. Terrible messy stuff, too, and mak's nea end o' dirt."

The children came up and when they stood, open-mouthed, gazing at the
party one of the sportsmen laughed.

"Then burn coal and the dirt won't bother you," Osborn rejoined.

"Hoo can we burn coal?" the woman asked. "Noo Tom Bell has lease o' baith
yards, he's putten up t' price, and when you've paid what he's asking
there's nowt left for meal. I canna work for Mrs. Osborn as I used, and
with oad Jim yearning nobbut fifteen shilling--"

She paused for breath and wiped her hot face, and Osborn signed to the
keeper. The woman was making him ridiculous.

"Turn them all out, Holliday," he said and went on with his friends.

"The old lady's talkative," one remarked. "Quite frank, but not at all
angry; I thought her line was rather dignified. I've met country folks
who'd have been servilely apologetic, and some who would have called you
ugly names."

"These people are never apologetic," Osborn said dryly. "As a rule,
they're not truculent, but they're devilish obstinate."

"I think I see. After all, it's possible to stick to your point without
abusing your antagonist. I suppose you turned them out because of the
pheasants?"