"For the sake of a shillin' now," he explained to me, "I en't a-goin'
to have that haulm spoilt, and lose two or three shillin's later on."
His brother-in-law agreed that he was right. It was all reported to me
in Bettesworth's own words.
"'I thinks you be right, Fred,' he says. 'You better get along without
that shillin' now, and have two or three later on.'"
Old Mrs. Skinner, too, commended him. She told of a neighbour who had
picked a few peas very early, and ruined his crop; for in the hot
weather the juicy haulm was sure to wither soon if bruised by
handling.
The weather was glorious just then, yet ill for our sandy gardens.
"As blue as a whetstone," said Bettesworth, in forecast of what the
cabbage crop would be, should rain not soon come. "And en't the grass
slippery and dry! _'Twas_ a hot day yest'day, no mistake! I was up in
my garden when Mrs. Skinner come up lookin' at my peas. She reg'lar
laughed at me. 'Well, Fred, you _be_ a purty picture!' There was the
sweat all trinklin' down my arms, an' the dust caked on.... But she
did admire they peas. Still, she reckoned I was right leavin' 'em. So
I says to my old gal, 'You let 'em bide.' So she'll have to, too. 'Tis
for me to give the word."