"Well, I am dom'd. An' tha says, as th' chap's name wur Robyson?"
"Aye, Robyson Crusoe."
"Well, I mun say, as I'd ha' loike to ha' knowed him. I did know a mon by th' name o' Robyson onct, but it could na ha' been him, fur he wur na mich o' a chap. If he'd a bin cast o' a desert island, he would na had th' gumption to do aw that theer—Jem Robyson could na. It could na ha' been him—an' besides, he could na ha' writ it out, as that theer felly's done."
There was a pause, in which Craddock held his pipe in his hand reflectively—shaking his head once more.
"Cannybles an' th' loike too," he said. "Theer's a soight o' things as a mon does na hear on. Why, I nivver heard o' cannybles mysen, an' I am na considert ignorant by th' most o' foak." Then, as Jud rose to go, "Art tha fur goin'?" he asked. "Well, I mun say as I'd loike to hear summat more about Robyson; but, if tha mun go, tha mun, I suppose. Sithee here, could tha coom again an' bring him wi' thee?"
"I mowt; I dunna moind the walk."
"Then thee do it," getting up to accompany him to the gates. "An' I'll gi'e thee a copper now an' then to pay thee. Theer's summat i' a book o' that soart. Coom thee again as soon as tha con, an' we'll go on wi' the cannybles."
"What's th' lad been readin' to thee, Sammy?" asked Mrs. Craddock entering the room, after Jud had taken his departure.
"A bit o' litterytoor. I dimnot know as tha'd know what th' book wur, if I towd thee. Tha nivver wur mich o' a hand at litterytoor. He wur readin' Robyson Crusoe."
"Not a tract, sure-ly?"
