human
Halt there, my men,--lads and lasses too,--there, halt a bit. Mrs. Fairfield, do you hear?--halt. I think his reverence has given us a capital sermon. Go up to the Great House all of you, and drink a glass to his health. Frank, go with them, and tell Spruce to tap one of the casks kept for the haymakers. Harry (this in a whisper),
gpt
My dear Hazeldean, what has happened? You are mad.
human
Don't bother; do what I tell you.
gpt
But where is the parson to find you?
human
Where? gadzooks, Mrs. H.,--at the stocks, to be sure!