'Those are draining-tiles,' said he, after a hearty stare at a cart-load.
Then about five minutes after he blew again, and said, 'I don't think
(puff) that (wheeze) draining without (gasp) manuring will constitute high
farming (puff).'
So he jolted and wheezed, and jerked and jagged the old quadruped's mouth,
occasionally hissing between his teeth, and stamping against the bottom of
the carriage, when other persuasive efforts failed to induce it to keep up
the semblance of a trot. At last the ill-supported hobble died out into a
walk, and Mr. Crowdey, complacently dropping his fat hand on his fat knees,
seemed to resign himself to his fate.
So they crawled along the up-and-downy piece of road below Poplarton
plantations, Mr. Jogglebury keeping a sharp eye upon the underwood for
sticks. After passing these, they commenced the gradual ascent of
Roundington Hill, when a sudden sweep of the road brought them in view of
the panorama of the rich Vale of Butterflower.
'There's a snug-looking box,' observed Sponge, as he at length espied a
confused jumble of gable-ends and chimney-pots rising from amidst a clump
of Scotch firs and other trees, looking less like a farmhouse than anything
he had seen.
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