"Aye, it's a bit dampish," said Dixon, as he brought a couple more logs to replenish a fire that seemed to have no heart for burning. The absurd moderation of the statement irritated the person to whom it was addressed. "What I'm thinkin'"-said Mrs. Dixon, impatiently, as she moved to the window-"is that they'll mappen not get here at all The watter'll be over t' road by Grier's mill. And yo' know varra well, it may be runnin' too fasst to get t' horses through-an' they'd be three pussons inside, an' luggage at top."