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that’s ’cause she’s a Methodist； no more nor a white calf’s white
’cause it eats out o’ the same bucket wi’ a black un。”
“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 over…cliver 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
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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。 Marty was quite sure he saw a yellow…
hammer on the boughs of the great ash； and while he was peeping；
he missed the sight of a white…throated stoat； which had run across
the path and was described with much fervour by the junior
Tommy。 Then there was a little greenfinch； just fledged； fluttering
along the ground； and it seemed quite possible to catch it； till it
managed to flutter under the blackberry bush。 Hetty could not be
got to give any heed to these things； so Molly was called on for her
ready sympathy； and peeped with open mouth wherever she was
told； and said “Lawks！” whenever she was expected to wonder。
Molly hastened on with some alarm when Hetty had come back
and called to them that her aunt was angry； but Marty ran on first；
shouting； “We’ve found the speckled turkey’s nest； Mother！” with
the instinctive confidence that people who bring good news are
never in fault。
“Ah；” said Mrs。 Poyser； really forgetting all discipline in this
pleasant surprise； “that’s a good lad； why； where is it？”
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“Down in ever such a hole； under the hedge。 I saw it first；
looking after the greenfinch； and she sat on th’ nest。”
“You didn’t frighten her； I hope；” said the mother； “else she’ll
forsake it。”
“No； I went away as still as still； and whispered to Molly—didn’t
I； Molly？”
“Well； well； now come on；” said Mrs。 Poyser； “and walk before
Father and Mother； and take your little sister by the hand。 We
must go straight on now。 Good boys don’t look after the birds of a
Sunday。”
“But； Mother；” said Marty； “you said you’d give half…a…crown to
find the speckled turkey’s nest。 Mayn’t I have the half…crown put
into my money…box？”
“We’ll see about that； my lad； if you walk along now； like a good
boy。”
The father and mother exchanged a significant glance of
amusement at their eldest…born’s acuteness； but on Tommy’s
round face there was a cloud。
“Mother；” he said； half…crying； “Marty’s got ever so much more
money in his box nor I’ve got in mine。”
“Munny； me want half…a…toun in my bots；” said Totty。
“Hush； hush； hush；” said Mrs。 Poyser； “did ever anybody hear
such naughty children？ Nobody shall ever see their money…boxes
any more； if they don’t make haste and go on to church。”
This dreadful threat had the desired effect； and through the two
remaining fields the three pair of small legs trotted on without any
serious interruption； notwithstanding a small pond full of tadpoles；
alias “bullheads；” which the lads looked at wistfully。
The damp hay that must be scattered and turned afresh to…
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morrow was not a cheering sight to Mr。 Poyser； who during hay
and corn harvest had often some mental struggles as to the
benefits of a day of rest； but no temptation would have induced
him to carry on any field…work； however early in the morning； on a
Sunday； for had not Michael Holdsworth had a pair of oxen
“sweltered” while he was ploughing on Good Friday？ That was a
demonstration that work on sacred days was a wicked thing； and
with wickedness of any sort Martin Poyser was quite clear that he
would have nothing to do； since money got by such means would
never prosper。
“It a’most makes your fingers itch to be at the hay now the sun
shines so；” he observed； as they passed through the “Big
Meadow。” “But it’s poor foolishness to think o’ saving by going
against your conscience。 There’s that Jim Wakefield； as they used
to call ‘Gentleman Wakefield；’ used to do the same of a Sunday as
o’ week…days； and took no heed to right or wrong； as if there was
nayther God nor devil。 An’ what’s he come to？ Why； I saw him
myself last market…day a…carrying a basket wi’ oranges in ’t。”
“Ah； to be sure；” said Mrs。 Poyser； emphatically； “you make but
a poor trap to catch luck if you go and bait it wi’ wickedness。 The
money as is got so’s like to burn holes i’ your pocket。 I’d niver wish
us to leave our lads a sixpence but what was got i’ the rightful way。
And as for the weather； there’s One above makes it； and we must
put up wi’t： it’s nothing of a plague to what the wenches are。”
Notwithstanding the interruption