“Come here, Beck, for one minute. Here’s Bithey won’t believe you are any older nor her.”
Rebecca turned, eyeing Tabitha up and down somewhat disdainfully.
“Ye may believe it or not, as ye please,” she said, “but you was a little maid goin’ to school when I was out in service.”
“What does she say?” inquired Tabitha, turning to one of the bystanders—for quite a little crowd had gathered around the two.
“She says you are no age at all worth countin’,” bawled Charl’. “She ’lows you be quite a little maid still.”
“Little maid, indeed!” retorted Bithey. “I know I must be seventy if I’m a day, and I’m a’most sure I’m a good bit more nor that. Why, I be getting that weak in the limbs I can scarce get about.”
“Anybody mid get weak in the limbs!” cried Rebecca wrathfully. “’Tisn’t no sign of age, that isn’t. When I did come to live at Thorncombe Farm, twelve or fifteen years ago, I was a staid body, as anybody mid see; but you—you was quite fresh and well-lookin’. I can mind it well. You did come up to our place for a bit o’ lard soon arter I did get there, and you was as straight and as active and as smooth and chuffy in the face—”
“Dear, dear! however can ye go for to tell sich tales, Rebecca?” groaned Bithey, much scandalised. “I can mind that day so well as you, and I can mind as you did offer to carry the lard for me as far as the gate, for, says you, ‘You do look mortal tired for sure,’ says you; ‘and ’tis a long way to carry it and you not bein’ so young as you was’.”
“Oh, faith, Becky, the case is goin’ again’ you!” shouted Charl’. “If ye said that, it shows plain as you was treatin’ Bithey respectful like, you bein’ the youngest.”
“God forgive you, Bithey!” ejaculated the dairywoman. “Have you no conscience at all? _I_ say sich a thing! I offer to carry lard for you! ’Twas never my way to go in for payin’ compliments to folks, and I’d always plenty to do wi’out makin’ out more work for myself.”
“Come, come,” cried a fat, good-natured man who had drawn near, “don’t be fallin’ out on a Sunday! There must be some way of knowin’ your ages. Let’s see how far back you can remember, and maybe that’ll tell us summat. Can ye mind when Rectory chimbley was blowed down? I were a little chap myself then, but I can remember it.”