"Jack Dollop, a 'hore's-bird of a fellow we had here as milker at one

time, sir, courted a young woman over at Mellstock, and deceived her

as he had deceived many afore. But he had another sort o' woman to

reckon wi' this time, and it was not the girl herself. One Holy

Thursday of all days in the almanack, we was here as we mid be now,

only there was no churning in hand, when we zid the girl's mother

coming up to the door, wi' a great brass-mounted umbrella in her

hand that would ha' felled an ox, and saying 'Do Jack Dollop work

here?--because I want him! I have a big bone to pick with he, I

can assure 'n!' And some way behind her mother walked Jack's young

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woman, crying bitterly into her handkercher. 'O Lard, here's a

time!' said Jack, looking out o' winder at 'em. 'She'll murder me!

Where shall I get--where shall I--? Don't tell her where I be!'

And with that he scrambled into the churn through the trap-door, and

shut himself inside, just as the young woman's mother busted into

the milk-house. 'The villain--where is he?' says she. 'I'll claw

his face for'n, let me only catch him!' Well, she hunted about

everywhere, ballyragging Jack by side and by seam, Jack lying

a'most stifled inside the churn, and the poor maid--or young woman

rather--standing at the door crying her eyes out. I shall never

forget it, never! 'Twould have melted a marble stone! But she

couldn't find him nowhere at all."

The dairyman paused, and one or two words of comment came from the

listeners. Dairyman Crick's stories often seemed to be ended when they were not

really so, and strangers were betrayed into premature interjections

of finality; though old friends knew better.

The narrator went on-

"Well, how the old woman should have had the wit to guess it I could

never tell, but she found out that he was inside that there churn.

Without saying a word she took hold of the winch (it was turned by

handpower then), and round she swung him, and Jack began to flop

about inside. 'O Lard! stop the churn! let me out!' says he, popping

out his head. 'I shall be churned into a pummy!' (He was a cowardly

chap in his heart, as such men mostly be). 'Not till ye make amends

for ravaging her virgin innocence!' says the old woman. 'Stop the

churn you old witch!' screams he. 'You call me old witch, do ye, you

deceiver!' says she, 'when ye ought to ha' been calling me mother-law

these last five months!' And on went the churn, and Jack's bones

rattled round again. Well, none of us ventured to interfere; and at

last 'a promised to make it right wi' her. 'Yes--I'll be as good as

my word!' he said. And so it ended that day."




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