Part 44 (1/2)
David laughed, and shook his head
”Tends on what sort it is, sir Some's at their best in Septeoes on to Deceht on to April Why the round pears on that little tree yonder don't get ripe till April and May Like green bullets now, but by that time, or even June, if you take care on 'eary juice”
”But these must be ripe, David”
”Nay, sir, they're not As I told you afore, if you pick 'em too soon they srivels When they're quite ripe they're just beginning to turn creamy colour like”
”Well, they're a very nice lot, David”
”Yes, sir; and what a”
”I wish I could, sir, but I feel as if I dursn't”
”Dare not! Why?”
”Fear they ht walk over the wall”
”What, be stolen?”
”Ay, oing gently down the centre walk, when it was like having a sort o' stroke, for there was a head just peeping over the wall”
”A stranger?”
”I couldn't quite see, sir; but I' to see if they was ready to go into his pockets”
”Then let's pick them at once,” cried To of you,” said David reproachfully ”Don't I keep on telling o' you as they'd srivel up; and what's a pear then? It ain't as if it was a walnut, where the srivel's a ornyentleman with a couple o' sticks”
David's wrinkled face expanded, and his eyes nearly-closed
”Hah! Now you're talking sense, sir,” he said, in a husky whisper, as if the idea was too good to be spoken aloud ”Hazel sticks, sir--thick 'uns?”
”Hazel! A young scoundrel!” cried Tom
”Nay, he's an old 'un, sir, in wickedness”
”Hazel is no good I'd take old broonantly ”Oh, I do hate a thief”
”Ay, sir, that coarden House-breakers and highwayarden, where you've been nussin' the things up for years and years--ah! there's nothing worse than that”