horses, only two indeed (counting for one the pony), and a red-faced man
on the bigger nag.

"Plaise ye, worshipful masters," he said, being feared of the gateway,
"carn 'e tull whur our Jan Ridd be?"

"Hyur a be, ees fai, Jan Ridd," answered a sharp little chap, making
game of John Fry's language.

"Zhow un up, then," says John Fry poking his whip through the bars at
us; "Zhow un up, and putt un aowt."

The other little chaps pointed at me, and some began to hallo; but I
knew what I was about.

"Oh, John, John," I cried, "what's the use of your coming now, and Peggy
over the moors, too, and it so cruel cold for her? The holidays don't
begin till Wednesday fortnight, John. To think of your not knowing
that!"

John Fry leaned forward in the saddle, and turned his eyes away from
me; and then there was a noise in his throat like a snail crawling on a
window-pane.

"Oh, us knaws that wull enough, Maister Jan; reckon every Oare-man knaw
that, without go to skoo-ull, like you doth. Your moother have kept arl
the apples up, and old Betty toorned the black puddens, and none dare
set trap for a blagbird. Arl for thee, lad; every bit of it now for
thee!"