THREE:"Yesand Greek, when I've adone wud the Latin."
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THREE:All Peasmarsh went to the Fair. It was a recognised holiday. All farm workexcept the most barely necessarywas put aside, and the ploughman and dairymaid rollicked with their betters. The road across Boarzell was dark with them, coming from all quartersPlayden, Iden, Beckley, Northiam, BodiamOld Turk's Farm, Baron's Grange, Corkwood, Kitchenhoureven from Blackbrook and Ethnam on the Kentish border.
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THREE:"Still, I'm sorry for him," said Realf of Grandturzel"he's the only man hereabouts wot's really made a serious business of farming, and it's a shame he should get busted."
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THREE:"Surelye! It all fizzled out, soon as them beasts saw the constables. Fifty speshul constables sworn in at Rye Town Hall, all of 'em wud truncheons! You couldn't expect any rabble-scrabble to face 'em."
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THREE:There was a humility in the stranger which pleased Roland's imperious temper; he had granted the permission by which he abided in the castle, and he seemed to feel a kind of interest in his proteg; and the envy of his attendants was often excited by their young lord beckoning to Calverley to assist him to mount, or alight, or do him any other little service. Calverley began now to be considered as a kind of inmate in the castle, and various were the whispered tales that went about respecting him. At length it was discovered that he was a scholarthat is, he could read and write; and the circumstance, though it abated nothing of the whisperings of idle curiosity, entirely silenced the taunts he had been compelled to endure. If still disliked, yet was he treated with some respect; for none of the unlettered domestics would have presumed to speak rudely to one so far above them in intellectual attainments.
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THREE:"Chivalrous, humane man!well, anyhow I'm not anyone you can beat, so I dare askis it worth while?"Harry had not aged so successfully. He was terribly bent, and some of his joints were swollen grotesquely, though he had not had so much truck as Reuben with the earth and her vapours. He was so thin that he amounted to little more than shrivelled yellow skin over some twisted bones, and yet he was wiry and clung desperately to life. Reuben was sorry for thishis brother annoyed him. Harry grew more irritating with old age. He still played his fiddle, though he had now forgotten every semblance of a tune, and if it were taken away from him by some desperate person he would raise such an outcry that it would soon be restored as a lesser evil. He hardly ever spoke to anyone, but muttered to himself. "Salvation's got me!" he would croak, for his mind had been inexplicably stamped by Pete's outrage, and he forgot all about that perpetual wedding which had puzzled him for so many years. "Salvation's got me!" he would yell, suddenly waking in the middle[Pg 384] of the nightkeeping the memory of the last traitor always green.
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