"Jonnock!" said I.
"You're a Stafford chap," she asserted.
"I am," I agreed, "and I'll see you done well by."
That settled her, and Donald was settled too, for his immediate wants
were satisfied by a large glass of brandy, and those more remote by a
bucket of water and a towel.
"Gom!" said the virile little woman to me, "a wesh'll do him no harm.
I've got the biggest gorby of a mon," she went on, "between Mow Cop and
the Cocklow o' Leek. He's gone trapesing off, with our young Ted on his
shoulders, to see yow chaps march into Leek. There's about a dozen on 'em
gone, as brisk as if they were goin' to Stoke wakes. Fine fools they'll
lukken when they comes whom to-nate."
As it happened, the "Dun Cow" was after all left to Donald and the
pipers. When I rejoined Margaret, she said, "Pray help me down, Oliver,
and we'll find the doctor, and have him dress your head. And, once out of
Donald's sight, I'll have the laugh that's nearly killing me to keep
under."
I helped her down, and said, "Never mind doctor! That fine old church
yonder must be well worth looking into."
"You will mind, sir," she flashed.
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