"There's that poor fool, Vixen, whimpering for me at home." said Bartle. "I can never bring her here with me for fear she should be struck with Mrs Poyser's eye, and the poor bitch might go limping for ever after."
"I've never any need to drive Gyp back," said Adam, laughing. "He always turns back of his own head when he finds out I'm coming here."
"Ay, ay!" said Bartle. "A terrible woman!—made of needles—made of needles. But I stick to Martin—I shall always stick to Martin. And he likes the needles, God help him! He's a cushion made on purpose for 'em."
"But she's a downright good-natured woman, for all that," said Adam, "and as true as the daylight. She's a bit cross wi' the dogs when they offer to come in th' house, but if they depended on her, she'd take care and have 'em well fed. If her tongue's keen, her heart's tender: I've seen that in times o' trouble. She's one o' those women as are better than their word."
"Well, well," said Bartle, "I don't say th' apple isn't sound at the core; but it sets my teeth on edge, it sets my teeth on edge."
