' The
black-browed elderly woman spoke respectfully but firmly.
'What silly nonsense have you got into your heads?' shouted the
Squire. 'You know very well all that's going to happen is that the
County Council are going to send their motor-plough over, and
they'll have to break down the gates to get in, so that the law can
settle it. What's come to you that you're all scuttling like a pack
of rabbits? It's not your skins that'll pay for it--it's mine!'
'We're told--Perley an' me--as there'll be miling_tary_,' said Mrs.
Perley, unmoved. 'Leastways, they'll bring a road-engine, Perley
says, as'll make short work o' them gates. And folks do say as they
might even bring a tank along; you know, sir, as there's plenty of
'em, and not fur off.' She nodded mysteriously towards a quarter,
never mentioned in the neighbourhood, where these Behemoths of war
had a training-ground. 'And Perley and me, we can't have nowt to do
wi' such things. We wasn't brought up to 'em.'
'Well, if you go, you don't come back!' said the Squire, shaking a
threatening hand.
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