When she returned, the old man confronted her and
her lover with this threat, which I suppose he considered "the most
awful" punishment that he could devise.
"March into the house, Madam 'Ria (Maria); and if ever I catch you
with that scamp again, I'll tie you up to a stump all day, and give
you no wittals."
I was greatly amused by overhearing a dialogue between Old Wittals
and one of his youngest sons, a sharp, Yankeefied-looking boy, who
had lost one of his eyes, but the remaining orb looked as if it
could see all ways at once.
"I say, Sol, how came you to tell that tarnation tearing lie to Mr.
S - - yesterday? Didn't you expect that you'd catch a good wallopping
for the like of that? Lying may be excusable in a man, but 'tis a
terrible bad habit for a boy."
"Lor', father, that worn't a lie. I told Mr. S - - our cow worn't in
his peas. Nor more she wor; she was in his wheat."
"But she was in the peas all night, boy."
"That wor nothing to me; she worn't in just then. Sure I won't get a
licking for that?"
"No, no, you are a good boy; but mind what I tell you, and don't
bring me into a scrape with any of your real lies."
Prevarication, the worst of falsehoods, was a virtue in his eyes.
So much for the old man's morality.
