"Oh, I say, Tom, we are in a mess." "Oh, there's nowt the matter, Mester Dick!" said Hickathrift good-temperedly, as he picked up the broken harness and examined it.
"Why, I could mend all this in less than an hour with some wax-ends and a brad-awl." "Yes, but will you, Hicky ?" "Of course I will, my lad.

Theer, don't look that how.

Go and catch the Solemn-un, and me, and Dave, and John Warren'll get the root up to the yard for you." "Will you, Hicky ?" cried the boys joyfully.

"Oh, you are a good old fellow! Come on, Tom, and let's catch Solomon." The harness was thrust aside by the wheelwright, ready to take home, and then at a word the two fen-men came forward, and together they rolled the awkwardly-shaped root over and over toward the farm; while, once satisfied that the pine-root was on its way, Dick gave his companion a slap on the shoulder, and moistened his hand to get a better grip of his stick.
"Get a stick, Tom," he said.

"I don't want to drum old Solomon's ribs; but I'm just in the humour to give it him if he plays any of his tricks." That was just what the donkey seemed determined upon.