No sooner, however, had the door closed on the clergyman than a titter went round the table.

Matthew was still at a white heat.

Accustomed as he was to "tum'le" his neighbors at the Red Lion, he was now profoundly agitated.

It was not frequently that he brought down such rare game in his sport.
"Mattha Branthet," said Reuben Thwaite, "what, man, thoo didst flyte the minister! What it is to hev the gift o' gob and gumption!" "Shaf! It's kittle shootin' at crows and clergy," replied Matthew.
The breakfast being over, the benches were turned towards the big peat fire that glowed red on the hearth and warmed the large kitchen on this wintry day.

The ale jars were refilled, pipes and tobacco were brought in, and the weaver relinquished his office of potman to his daughter.
"I'd be nobbut a clot-heed," he said when abdicating, "and leave nane for mysel if I sarrad it oot." Robbie Anderson now put on his great cloak, and took down a whip from a strap against the rafters.
"What's this ?" said little Reuben to Robbie.