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"I
like the clock," said his wife. "I wish to keep it. I have paid
silver gilder for it."
"It
is of no matter, the clock must go!"
"You
may be the master of this house, but I wish to keep the clock. Do I have
no say? Am I just a provider of meals?"
At
he began to reply the clock struck loudly.
"Oh
‘tis true, ‘tis true like my heart."
"You
don’t consider me or your daughter at all!" she cried. The clock
struck the second time.
"Oh
‘tis true, ‘tis true like my heart."
"So
now, I know you have never care for me at all. Is that so? I dare'st
though to say it."
The
clock struck again.
"Oh
‘tis true, ‘tis true like my heart."
"And
when the man’s gone you are going to set about chastising mummy with
blows, aren’t you," said Rapoza
The
clock struck its forth stroke.
"Oh
‘tis true, ‘tis true like my heart."
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This
was too much to bear for the blacksmith’s wife and she implored the
tradesman to take her and Rapoza to Cruahawn, to her mother’s cottage.
Upset by what he had witnessed he agreed in spite of the pleas of the
blacksmith. The blacksmith cried out in anguish as his wife and daughter,
sitting in the trader’s cart, rode off down the hill.
The
afternoon following the blacksmith’s head was laid heavy as lead upon
the table when he heard a hand knock at the outside door.
"They
are but returned," he said with joy. He rose quickly, but his
brightness left him when he found two men in King’s colours with frozen
faces appear before him.
"You
are to come with us. You are summoned to appear before the county courts."
Disbelieving his ill-fortune he prepared himself quickly to be
accompanied to Cruahawn.
On the way he began to ask questions, but neither of the men’s
faces thawed and less so did their tongues. He was much troubled in his
heart that his wife, whom he loved so dearly, could put him to this.
He stood in the dock with the judge hovering before him.
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