'T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road,
wen who should I see, a-standin' at a chapel door, with a blue
soup-plate in her hand, but your mother-in-law! I werily believe
there was change for a couple o' suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all
in ha'pence; and as the people come out, they rattled the pennies
in it, till you'd ha' thought that no mortal plate as ever was
baked, could ha' stood the wear and tear. What d'ye think it was
all for?'
'For another tea-drinkin', perhaps,' said Sam.
'Not a bit on it,' replied the father; 'for the shepherd's water-
rate, Sammy.'
'The shepherd's water-rate!' said Sam.
'Ay,' replied Mr. Weller, 'there was three quarters owin', and
the shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he--perhaps it might be
on account that the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's wery
little o' that tap he drinks, Sammy, wery; he knows a trick worth
a good half-dozen of that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and
so they cuts the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel,
gives out as he's a persecuted saint, and says he hopes the heart
of the turncock as cut the water off, 'll be softened, and turned
in the right vay, but he rayther thinks he's booked for somethin'
uncomfortable.
Pages:
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672