152 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



mother, as they run about her feet, for doing so well 

 by them. Swish ! comes something, almost brushing 

 the old lady's nose. A chick is clutched from before 

 her very feet, and that something in the shape of a 

 sparrow-hawk is away again. 



' Drat that 'ere thing ! If I don't knock the life 

 out on it ! ' Dropping the remaining food she grasps 

 the broom that is lying close to her, and brandishes 

 it about in a very warlike manner. That the hawk 

 is now half a mile away is no matter to her ; she is 

 taking imaginary vengeance, and giving tongue in 

 fine style at the top of her voice. ' Father ! father ! 

 "are ye deaf? Don't ye hear me calling ye ? ' 



' Yes, I kin hear ye, 'twud be a wonder if I didn't. 

 What in the name o' airthly goodness be the matter 

 with ye ? ' 



' That 'ere varmint have snappered up another o' 

 them 'ere chicks ; there's nearly four shillin's gone ; 

 leastways I should ha' had it. 'Tis clear ruin, that it 

 is. Why in the name o' mischief don't ye shoot the 

 dratted thing ? But there ain't a bit o' good talking, 

 for that 'ere old gun o' yours as ye talks so much on 

 at times wants a week's notice give her before she 

 goes off.' 



' Well, dame, there be other things besides the old 

 gun as don't go off; for I ain't heard that 'ere scrub 



