"Aw, I know what that is. Mess is what we do name it, and as for fagot, we do call that mock, only it bean’t sticks, but a mighty block o’ wood. Squire don’t hev it now, since he hev been so poor. But why don’t ’ee axe yer maister if ye can do as ye do to-home?" "I don’t know what be come to Maister. He be all hippety-like—looks as grave as a church owl, and him goin’ to be married, too. Pa’son be goin’ to pray for un fust time o’ Sunday." "Well, marriage be a fearsome thing, I s’pose. I seed a weddin’ up-along at church once, and theer was a little Noah’s flood o’ tears. I don’t think I’ll ever be married." "You be only a chiel yet. But there now, ’tis ever since Maister brought they great lubbers into house, and gied ’em guns and swords and I don’t know what all. Seems he be afeard o’ summat. Do ’ee think that monster Boney will come and eat the poor childer here, Sam?" "Not he. He dussn’t do it. Don’t ’ee be afeard, now, Maidy dear. I’ll look out for un, and if I do see un I’ll ring our bell so powerful loud that all the brave men in the country will run to defend ’ee." "We’ve got a bell, too." "Not sech a banger as ours, I warrant ’ee. I do wish Squire were rich; then we’d hev the mock, and a great big figgy pudden, not a little small one wi’ half a pound o’ figs in it; and Squire would axe ’ee and all the country to come and join us, and ye’d come in yer fine new gown that I’m goin’ to gie ye. But theer, ’tis not to be, and ’twill only make us wisht to think o’t." "Look ’ee see, Sam: what a throng o’ folk! Whatever is the matter?" They had come within sight of the village green, where a crowd of men, women, and children were talking excitedly. "What be all this stoor, Ike?" asked Sam of the young fisher. "Why, Jake Tonkin can’t be found nowhere. He wented up-along yestere’en to wood to get some mistletoe, and never come back." "Never come back?" "No. His mother be in a tarrible state, Zacky bein’ away and all." "Sure ’a didn’ go wi’ Zacky to Rusco?" "Now that’s foolish. Didn’ I say ’a wented for mistletoe yestere’en, and Zacky sailed off in mornin’.’ "So ’a did, to be sure. Here’s riding-officer; let us tell him." Mr. Polwhele rode up into the midst of the crowd. "Well, neighbours, what’s to do?" he cried. "Jake Tonkin be gone a-lost, Maister," shouted a score of voices in answer. "Lost, is he? He’s big enough to take care of himself, surely. Isn’t he with his father?" "No, Maister," piped a small boy. "Zacky Tonkin be——" "Wisht yer clatter!" cried the child’s mother, catching him by the arm and shaking him. "Who saw him last?" asked the riding-officer. "Who seed un last?" repeated several voices. "Here be Un Tonkin; she’ll tell to we." "’A wented last night to get mistletoe, sir," said Mrs. Tonkin, with a pale, anxious face. "Never hev he stayed out all night afore, and I be afeard something bad hev come to un."