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The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Salamanca</strong> <strong>Corpus</strong>: <strong>Yeoman</strong> <strong>Fleetwood</strong> (<strong>1900</strong>)<br />

"We are neither fish, flesh, nor fowl," she murmured. “<strong>The</strong> people with whom I should<br />

by right associate have past me off; while as for your friends—" "My friends are not<br />

good enough for you, are they,<br />

[21]<br />

my dear?" put in the yeoman finishing the sentence. “Never mind: I think we do very<br />

well as we are. We shall have a splendid view here. Good-day, Mr. Billington," as the<br />

bailiff rode up, full of excitement.<br />

"Good-day to you, Mr. <strong>Fleetwood</strong>. I've come to ask a favour o' ye. Will ye let yon fine<br />

lad o' yours present the address? Ye see, 'tis this way: My little wench there will hand<br />

up a nosegay, while the school childer's singin' their welcome, an' hoo's a bit timid like,<br />

an' hoo dunnot like the notion o' goin' up by hersel'. Hoo isn't one o' the school childer,<br />

ye know, an' I don't reckon to let ony o' them go up along of her. I reckon to read the<br />

address mysel' a bit later on, but I jest bethought me as your lad 'ud be the very chap to<br />

go up with it. Eh! 't ‘ull be a pratty seet — the lad an' the lass goin' up, one a side o'<br />

t'other, an' him such a gradely little chap."<br />

"To be sure, to be sure," cried the father, much flattered. "Simon'll be proud to go, won't<br />

you, Simon? You must hold up your head, you know, and look the lady in the face."<br />

"Yigh, he'll larn to do that quick enough, I'll engage, afore aught's long," laughed the<br />

bailiff. "I am very thankful to ye, Mr. <strong>Fleetwood</strong>. Coom wi’ me, my lad, an’ I'll show<br />

you where to stand."<br />

Simon jumped down from his pony and handed the reins to his father, who was<br />

subjected to a somewhat severe reprimand from Mrs. <strong>Fleetwood</strong> for having made so<br />

little of the boy.<br />

"I don't see why my son should be chosen as a match for the bailiff’s child — he might<br />

be any common lad."<br />

"My dear, he has been chosen because he is my son," returned her husband, with the<br />

quiet firmness which he so rarely adopted, and which invariably caused Mrs,<br />

[22]<br />

<strong>Fleetwood</strong> to subside. "I am proud and glad to show this mark of respect to the Squire."

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