He was a church-member: he could NOT be drunk?
At the sight of her, he tried to regain the austere dignity usual to him when women were concerned, but lapsed into an occasional giggle, which spoiled the effect.
"Where have you been," she inquired, severely, "scouring the country like a heathen on this blessed day?
And what is that you have burning?
You're disgracing the house, and strangers in it." Joel's good-humour was proof against even this.
"I've scoured to some purpose, then.

Dun't tell the mester: it'll muddle his brains t'-night.

Wait till mornin'.

Squire More'll be down his-self t' 'xplain." He rubbed the greasy fingers into his hair, while Mrs.

Howth's eyes were fixed in dumb perplexity.
"Ye see,"-- slowly, determined to make it clear to her now and forever,--"it's water: no, t' a'n't water: it's troubled me an' Mester Howth some time in Poke Run, atop o' 't.