In this shadow the squire and the
statesman were sitting. Their heads were uncovered, their long clay
pipes in their hands; and, with a placid complacency, they were watching
the score of busy men before them. Many had come long distances to try
their skill against each other; for the shearings at Latrigg's were a
pastoral game, at which it was a local honor to be the winner. There the
young statesman who could shear his six score a day found others of a
like capacity, and it was Greek against Greek at Up-Hill shearing that
afternoon.
"I had two thousand sheep to get over," said Latrigg, "but they'll be
bare by sunset, squire. That isn't bad for these days. When I was young
we wouldn't have thought so much of two thousand, but every dalesman
then knew what good shearing was. _Now_," and the old man shook his head
slowly, "good shearers are few and far between. Why, there's some here
from beyond Kirkstone Pass and Nab Scar!"
It was customary for young people of all conditions to give men as aged
as Barf Latrigg the honorable name of "grandfather;" and Charlotte said,
as she sat down in the breezy shadow beside him, "Who is first,
grandfather?"
"Why, our Stephen, to be sure! They'll have to be up before day-dawn to
keep sidey with our Steve.--Steve, how many is thou ahead now?" The
voice that asked the question, though full of triumph, was thin and
weak; but the answer came back in full, mellow tones,--
"Fifteen ahead, grandfather.
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