"And Batten's Ponds, that are fed by springs, have been led through
Trott's Wood, taking the spare water from the old Witches' Spring under
Churt Haw, and we--we--_we_ are their combined waters!" Those were the
Waters from the upland bogs and moors--a porter-coloured, dusky, and foam-
flecked flood.
"It's all very interesting," purred the Cat to the sliding waters, "and I
have no doubt that Trott's Woods and Bott's Woods are tremendously
important places; but if you could manage to do your work--whose value I
don't in the least dispute--a little more soberly, I, for one, should be
grateful."
"Book--book--book--book--book--Domesday Book!" The urged Wheel was fairly
clattering now: "In Burgelstaltone a monk holds of Earl Godwin one hide
and a half with eight villeins. There is a church--and a monk.... I
remember that monk. Blessed if he could rattle his rosary off any quicker
than I am doing now ... and wood for seven hogs. I must be running twelve
to the minute ... almost as fast as Steam. Damnable invention, Steam! ...
Surely it's time we went to dinner or prayers--or something. Can't keep up
this pressure, day in and day out, and not feel it. I don't mind for
myself, of course. _Noblesse oblige_, you know. I'm only thinking of the
Upper and the Nether Millstones. They came out of the common rock. They
can't be expected to----"
"Don't worry on our account, please," said the Millstones huskily.
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