"
"Nay," said Mr. Poyser, with as near an approach to a snarl as his
good-nature would allow; "I'm no opinion o' the Methodists. It's on'y
tradesfolks as turn Methodists; you nuver knew a farmer bitten wi' them
maggots. There's maybe a workman now an' then, as isn't overclever at's
work, takes to preachin' an' that, like Seth Bede. But you see Adam, as
has got one o' the best head-pieces hereabout, knows better; he's a good
Churchman, else I'd never encourage him for a sweetheart for Hetty."
"Why, goodness me," said Mrs. Poyser, who had looked back while her
husband was speaking, "look where Molly is with them lads! They're the
field's length behind us. How COULD you let 'em do so, Hetty? Anybody
might as well set a pictur' to watch the children as you. Run back and
tell 'em to come on."
Mr. and Mrs. Poyser were now at the end of the second field, so they set
Totty on the top of one of the large stones forming the true Loamshire
stile, and awaited the loiterers Totty observing with complacency, "Dey
naughty, naughty boys--me dood."
The fact was that this Sunday walk through the fields was fraught with
great excitement to Marty and Tommy, who saw a perpetual drama going on
in the hedgerows, and could no more refrain from stopping and peeping
than if they had been a couple of spaniels or terriers.
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