Us do, us do, Sam Churchill assented, nodding.
Ah, I do mind the time, Sammy, Geargey said regretfully, wiping his eyes with the corner of his jersey, wen every wipswile Id used to get a gintleman to go out way, whod gi us share an share alike o his grub, and a drap out o his whisky bottle: and wen we pulls ashore, he sez, seze: I dont want the vish, my man, seze; I only wants the sport, raly. But nowadays, Lard bless ee, Sam, we gets a pack o meetingers down from London, and they brings along a hunk o bread and some fat pork, or a piece o blue vinny cheese, as ard as Portland stone. Now I cant abare fat pork without a streak o lean in it, specially when I smells the bait; and I cant tackle the blue vinny, cos I never as my teeth with me: thof my mate, Bill-o-my-Soul, e can putt isself outside most things in the way o grub at a vurry short notice, as you do well know, Sam, and I never seed as bate made no difference to e nohow. But these ere meetingers, as I was a sayin (vor Ive got avore my story, Sammy), they goes out an haves vine sport, well say; and then, wen we comes ome they out and lugs out dree or vower shillins or so, vor me an my mate, an walks off with arf-a-suvrens worth o the biggest vish, quite aisy-like, an layves all the liddle fry an the blin in the boat; the chattering jackanapes.
Ees, ees, lad, times is changed, Sam murmured meditatively, half to himself; times is changed turble bad since old Squires day. Wot a place Ootton ad used to be then, adnt ur, Geargey? Coach from Darchester an bus from Tilbury station, bringin in gurt folks from London vor the sayson every day; dinner party up to vicarage with green paysen an peaches, an nectarines, An a ole turbat, Geargey put in parenthetically. Ay, lad, an a ole turbot every Saturday. Them was times, Geargey; them was times. I dont spose they ther times ull never come again. Ther aint the gentry now as therd used to be in old Squires day. Pack o trumpery London volk, with one servant, comin down ere vor the sayson short sayson six week, or murt be seven an then walkin off agin, without so much as spending ten poun or so in theole parish. I mind the times, Geargey, when volks used to say Ootton were the safety valve o the Bath sayson. Soon as sayson were over up to Bath, gentlevolk and ladies a-comin down ere to enjy thesselves, an spendin their money vree and aisy, same as if it were water. Us dont see un comin now, Geargey: times is changed turble: us dont see un now.
Its the dree terms as as ruined Ootton, Geargey said, philosophically the research of the cause being the true note of philosophy.
Its they dree terms as as done it, vor sartin.
Why, ows that, Gearge?
Well, dont ee see, Sam, its like o thik. Wen they used to ave arf-years at the schools, bless ee, volks with families ad used to bring down the children vrom school so soon as the arf-year were over. Then the gurt people ud take the young gentlemen out vishin, might be in June, or July may-be, and gee a bit o work to honest visher-people in the off-sayson. Then in August, London people ud come an take lodgins and gee us a bit more work nice and tidy. So the sayson ad used to last off an on vrom June to October. Well, bime-by, they meddlesome school people, they goes an makes up these ere new-vangled things o dree terms, as they calls em, cuttin up the year unnatral-like into dree pieces, as adnt used to be wen we was children. Wots the consequence? Everybody comes a-rushin and a-crushin permixuous, in August, the ole boilin o em together, wantin rooms an boats and vishermen, so as the parish baint up to it. Us as to work ard vor six or seven week, and not give satisfaction nayther; and then rest o the year us as to git along the best us can on the shart sayson. I cant abare they new-vangled ways, upsettin all the constitooted order of things altogither, an settin poor vishermen at sixes and sevens for arf their lifetime.
Its the march of intellect, Geargey, Sam Churchill answered, deprecatingly (Sam understood himself to be a Liberal in politics, and used this convenient phrase as a general solvent for an immense number of social difficulties). Its the march of intellect, no doubt, Geargey: theres a sight o progress about; board-schools an sich like: an if it cuts agin us, dont ee see, wy us as got to make the best of it, however.
It murt be, an agin it murtnt; and agin it murt, Geargey murmured dubiously.
But any way, whers Minna to, Sammy? thats wot I comed vor to ax ee.
Down to vield by lake, yander, most like, Sam answered with a nod of his head in the direction indicated.
Ill go an vetch her, said Geargey; dinners most ready.
An Ill come an zee wot Colins up to, added Sam, laying down his hoe, and pulling together his unbuttoned waistcoat.
They walked down to the brook in the meadow, and saw the two children sitting in the corner so intent upon their artistic performances that they hardly noticed the approach of their respective fathers. Old Sam Churchill went close up and looked keenly at the clay figure of Minna that Colin was still moulding with the last finishing touches as the two elders approached them. Thik ther vigger baint a bad un, Colin, he said, taking it carefully in his rough hand.
eeavent done it none so ill, lad; but it dont look so livin like as it ad ought to. Wot do ee think it is, Geargey, eh? tell us?
Why, Im blowed if that baint our Minna, Geargey answered, with a little gasp of open-mouthed astonishment. Its her vurry pictur, Colin: a blind man could see that, of course, so soon as e set eyes on it. Ow do ee do it, Colin, eh? Ow do ee do it? Oh, that baint nothin, Colin said, colouring up. Only a little bit o clay, just made up vor to look like Minna.
Look ee ere, Colin, his father went on, glancing quickly from the clay to little Minna, and altering a touch or two with his big clumsy fingers, not undeftly. Look ee ere; ee must putt the dress thik way, I should say, with a gurt dale more flusterin about it; it do zit too stiff and starchy, somehow, same as if it wur made o new buckram. ee must put in a fold or two, ere, so as to make un sit more natral. Dont ee see Minnas dress do double itself up, I cant rightly say ow, but sununat o tkik there way? And he moulded the moist clay a bit with his hands, till the folds of the drapery began to look a little more real and possible.
Id ought to ave drawed it first, I think, Colin said, looking at the altered dress with a satisfied glance. ave ee got such a thing as a pencil about ee, father?
Old Sam took a piece of pencil from his pocket, and handed it to Colin. The boy held it tightly in his fingers, with a true artistic grasp, like one who knows how to wield it, and with a few strokes on a scrap of paper hit off little Minna far better than he had done in the plastic material. Geargey looked over his shoulder with a delighted grin on his weatherbeaten features. I tell ee, Sam, he said to the old gardener, confidentially, its my belief that thik ther boyull be able one o these vine days to paint rale picturs.