had some sense sometimes; and
he thought it was high time for him to say a word for the parish.

"Maister Huckaback," he began, pointing with his pipe at him, the end
that was done in sealing-wax, "tooching of what you was plaized to zay
'bout this here parish, and no oother, mind me no oother parish but
thees, I use the vreedom, zur, for to tell 'e, that thee be a laiar."

Then Farmer Nicholas Snowe folded his arms across with the bowl of his
pipe on the upper one, and gave me a nod, and then one to mother, to
testify how he had done his duty, and recked not what might come of it.
However, he got little thanks from us; for the parish was nothing at all
to my mother, compared with her children's interests; and I thought it
hard that an uncle of mine, and an old man too, should be called a liar,
by a visitor at our fireplace. For we, in our rude part of the world,
counted it one of the worst disgraces that could befall a man, to
receive the lie from any one. But Uncle Ben, as it seems was used to
it, in the way of trade, just as people of fashion are, by a style of
courtesy.

Therefore the old man only looked with pity at Farmer Nicholas; and
with a sort of sorrow too, reflecting how much he might have made in a
bargain with such a customer, so ignorant and hot-headed.

"Now let us bandy words no more," said mother, very sweetly; "nothing is
easier than sharp words, except to wish them unspoken; as I do many and
many's the time, when I think of my good husband. But now let us hear
from Uncle Reuben what he would have us do to remove this disgrace from
amongst us, and to satisfy him of his goods."

"I care not for my goods, woman," Master Huckaback answered grandly;
"although they were of large value, about them I say nothing. But what I
demand is this, the punishment of those scoundrels."

"Zober, man, zober!" cried Farmer Nicholas; "we be too naigh Badgery
'ood, to spake like that of they Dooneses."

"Pack of cowards!" said Uncle Reuben, looking first at the door,
however; "much chance I see of getting redress from the valour of this
Exmoor! And you, Master Snowe, the very man whom I looked to to raise
the country, and take the lead as churchwarden--why, my youngest shopman
would match his ell against you. Pack of cowards," cried Uncle Ben,
rising and shaking his lappets at us; "don't pretend to answer me. Shake
you all off, that I do--nothing more to do with you!"

We knew it useless to answer him, and conveyed