{"id":"01KG8AM4QP8RMGFDPWA964GSP5","cid":"bafkreicco53v7xijcumwswljswwglsdmj4q5ftzzy2x23k6waio7exjfxi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":6202,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 9","source_file":"01KG89J1FFTGRE9J93Z3K29NGY","start_line":6122,"text":"and another voice said, ‘Come, wife; come, come--I must be back again in\r\na jiff--if you say I _must_ take all my meals at home, you must be\r\nspeedy; because the Squire---- Good-day, sir,’ he exclaimed, now first\r\ncatching sight of me as he entered the room. He turned toward his wife,\r\ninquiringly, and stood stock-still, while the moisture oozed from his\r\npatched boots to the floor.\r\n\r\n‘This gentleman stops here a while to rest and refresh: he will take\r\ndinner with us, too. All will be ready now in a trice: so sit down on\r\nthe bench, husband, and be patient, I pray. You see, sir,’ she\r\ncontinued, turning to me, ‘William there wants, of mornings, to carry a\r\ncold meal into the woods with him, to save the long one-o’clock walk\r\nacross the fields to and fro. But I won’t let him. A warm dinner is more\r\nthan pay for the long walk.’\r\n\r\n‘I don’t know about that,’ said William, shaking his head. ‘I have often\r\ndebated in my mind whether it really paid. There’s not much odds, either\r\nway, between a wet walk after hard work, and a wet dinner before it. But\r\nI like to oblige a good wife like Martha. And you know, sir, that women\r\nwill have their whimseys.’\r\n\r\n‘I wish they all had as kind whimseys as your wife has,’ said I.\r\n\r\n‘Well, I’ve heard that some women ain’t all maple-sugar; but, content\r\nwith dear Martha, I don’t know much about others.’\r\n\r\n‘You find rare wisdom in the woods,’ mused I.\r\n\r\n‘Now, husband, if you ain’t too tired, just lend a hand to draw the\r\ntable out.’\r\n\r\n‘Nay,’ said I; ‘let him rest, and let me help.’\r\n\r\n‘No,’ said William, rising.\r\n\r\n‘Sit still,’ said his wife to me.\r\n\r\nThe table set, in due time we all found ourselves with plates before us.\r\n\r\n‘You see what we have,’ said Coulter--‘salt pork, rye-bread, and\r\npudding. Let me help you. I got this pork of the Squire; some of his\r\nlast year’s pork, which he let me have on account. It isn’t quite so\r\nsweet as this year’s would be; but I find it hearty enough to work on,\r\nand that’s all I eat for. Only let the rheumatiz and other sicknesses\r\nkeep clear of me, and I ask no flavours or favours from any. But you\r\ndon’t eat of the pork!’\r\n\r\n‘I see,’ said the wife, gently and gravely, ‘that the gentleman knows\r\nthe difference between this year’s and last year’s pork. But perhaps he\r\nwill like the pudding.’\r\n\r\nI summoned up all my self-control, and smilingly assented to the\r\nproposition of the pudding, without by my looks casting any reflections\r\nupon the pork. But, to tell the truth, it was quite impossible for me\r\n(not being ravenous, but only a little hungry at the time) to eat of the\r\nlatter. It had a yellowish crust all round it, and was rather rankish, I\r\nthought, to the taste. I observed, too, that the dame did not eat of it,\r\nthough she suffered some to be put on her plate, and pretended to be\r\nbusy with it when Coulter looked that way. But she ate of the rye-bread,\r\nand so did I.\r\n\r\n‘Now, then, for the pudding,’ said Coulter. ‘Quick, wife; the Squire\r\nsits in his sitting-room window, looking far out across the fields. His\r\ntimepiece is true.’\r\n\r\n‘He don’t play the spy on you, does he?’ said I.\r\n\r\n‘Oh, no!--I don’t say that. He’s a good enough man. He gives me work.\r\nBut he’s particular. Wife, help the gentleman. You see, sir, if I lose\r\nthe Squire’s work, what will become of----’ and, with a look for which I\r\nhonoured humanity, with sly significance he glanced toward his wife;\r\nthen, a little changing his voice, instantly continued--‘that fine horse\r\nI am going to buy.’\r\n\r\n‘I guess,’ said the dame, with a strange, subdued sort of inefficient\r\npleasantry--‘I guess that fine horse you sometimes so merrily dream of\r\nwill long stay in the Squire’s stall. But sometimes his man gives me a\r\nSunday ride.’\r\n\r\n‘A Sunday ride!’ said I.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 9"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJVQ8D7NW8GVW8QE4DYG9","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1FFTGRE9J93Z3K29NGY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AM4QP0HWM395XA8BRMPVM","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AM4QTRCT93D2VDZFM4Q0D","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:27.382Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:41.250Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}