"But here's the father.

What a while you've been, Moss!" "While, do you call it ?" said Mr.Moss, feeling out of breath and injured.

"I've been running all the way.

Won't you 'light, Mr.
Tulliver ?" "Well, I'll just get down and have a bit o' talk with you in the garden," said Mr.Tulliver, thinking that he should be more likely to show a due spirit of resolve if his sister were not present.
He got down, and passed with Mr.Moss into the garden, toward an old yew-tree arbor, while his sister stood tapping her baby on the back and looking wistfully after them.
Their entrance into the yew-tree arbor surprised several fowls that were recreating themselves by scratching deep holes in the dusty ground, and at once took flight with much pother and cackling.

Mr.
Tulliver sat down on the bench, and tapping the ground curiously here and there with his stick, as if he suspected some hollowness, opened the conversation by observing, with something like a snarl in his tone,-- "Why, you've got wheat again in that Corner Close, I see; and never a bit o' dressing on it.