wi'out your blessin', an' sorry I shall be."

"If that's your tune, my young rascal, I'll speak again! Phoebe's under
age, remember that, and so sure as you dare take her a yard from her awn
door you'll suffer for it. 'Tis a clink job, you mind--a prison
business; and what's more, you 'm pleased to speak so plain that I will
tu, and tell 'e this. If you dare to lift up your eyes to my child
again, or stop her in the way, or have speech with her, I'll set
p'liceman 'pon 'e! For a year and more she 'm not her awn mistress; and,
at the end of that time, if she doan't get better sense than to tinker
arter a harum-scarum young jackanapes like you, she ban't a true Lyddon.
Now be off with 'e an' doan't dare to look same way Phoebe 's walkin',
no more, else theer'll be trouble for 'e."

"Wonnerful language, an' in a nutshell," commented Billy, as, blowing
rather hard, the miller made an end of his warning.

"Us'll leave it theer, then, Mr. Lyddon; and you'll live to be sorry
ever you said them words to me. Ess fay, you'll live to sing different;
for when two 's set 'pon a matter o' marryin', ban't fathers nor
mothers, nor yet angels, be gwaine to part 'em. Phoebe an' me will be
man an' wife some day, sure 's the sun 's brighter 'n the mune. So now
you knaw. Gude night to 'e."

He took up his hat and departed; Billy held up his hands in mute
amazement; but the miller showed no emotion and relighted his pipe.

"The rising generation do take my breath away twenty times a day," said
Mr. Blee. "To think o' that bwoy, in li'l frocks awnly yesterday,
standin' theer frontin' two aged men wi' such bouldacious language!"