I haven't come over here to talk about the wheat, though I tell you fairly I'd minded to do so.

I've come over here, Dr.
Parker, me and my missus who's outside, to thank this young gentleman for having saved the life of my little daughter Bessy.

She was walking along the road when a mad dog, a big brute of a mastiff, who came, I hear, from somewhere about Canterbury, and who has bit two boys on the road, to say nothing of other dogs and horses and such like; he came along the road, he were close to my Bess, and she stood there all alone.
Some of my men with pitchforks were two hundred yards or so behind; but law, they could have done nothing! when this young gentleman here jumped all of a sudden over a hedge and put himself between the dog and my Bess.

The dog, he rushed at him; but what does he do but claps a bag he'd got at the end of a stick over the brute's head, and there he holds him tight till the men comes up and kills him with their forks.
"Young gentleman," he said, stepping up to Frank and holding out his hand, "I owe my child's life to you.

There are not many men who would have thrown themselves in the way of a mad dog, for the sake of a child they knew nothing of.