flaming june painting

And begad, so 't have!' said the dairyman, who held in his left hand a wooden slice on which a lump of butter was stuck. `Yes - taste for yourself!' ¡¡¡¡Several of them gathered round him; and Mr Clare tasted, Tess tasted, also the other indoor milkmaids, one or two of the milking-men, and last of all Mrs Crick, who came out from the waiting breakfast-table. There certainly was a twang. ¡¡¡¡The dairyman, who had thrown himself into abstraction to better realize the taste, and so divine the particular species of noxious weed to which it appertained, suddenly exclaimed-- ¡¡¡¡`'Tis garlic! and I thought there wasn't a blade left in that mead!' ¡¡¡¡Then all the old hands remembered that a certain dry mead, into which a few of the cows had been admitted of late, had, in years gone by, spoilt the butter in the same way. The dairyman had not recognized the taste at that time, and thought the butter bewitched. ¡¡¡¡`We must overhaul that mead,' he resumed; `this mustn't continny!'