So he said, "There, then, I'll
overlook it this time, sir, so as I have the value of the bird."
"And what is the value--" asked Henry, trembling.
"Value! Why, the breed came from Norfolk; he was three years old;
and my missus set great store on him, he was as good as a house-dog,
to keep idle children out of the yard; and it was quite a picture to
see him posturing about, and setting up his tail! Value! not less
than five-and-twenty shillings, sir."
"But I have not five-and-twenty shillings. I can't get them," said
Hal, falling back into misery.
"You should have thought of that before you shot poor old Tom
Turkey!" quoth Farmer Grice.
"But what in the world shall I ever do?" said Henry.
"That's for you to settle, sir," said the farmer, taking up the
unlucky gun. "I shall take this, and keep it out of further harm."
"Oh pray, pray!" cried Henry. "It is not my gun; it is Mr.
Greville's; please let me have it!"
"What! was it those young dogs, the Master Grevilles, that were with
you!" growled Mr. Grice. "If I'd known that, I'd not have let you
off so easy.
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