Arthur Conan Doyle,
Micah Clarke — Chapter XXXI
(1889)
“ What were we to do with this resolute little dame of the marshes? That we should stay in the house was a crying need, for there was no other cover or shelter among the dreary bogs where we could hide ourselves. Yet she was bent upon driving us out with a decision and fearlessness which might have put Monmouth to shame.'You sell milk,' said Reuben. 'We are tired and thirsty, so we have come to have a horn of it.''Nay,' she cried, breaking into smiles, 'will ye pay me just as the folk pay granny? Oh, heart alive! ”
