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"Neaw, lort abbut," he cried, with a low, exulting laugh, "yo hanna brok'n yor word, an ey'n kept moine. Yo're free agen your will." "You have destroyed me by your mistaken zeal," cried the abbot, reproachfully. "Nowt o't sort," replied Hal; "ey'n saved yo' fro' destruction. This way, lort abbut this way."
Thinks ey, that's Friar Rush an' his lantern, an he'll lead me into a quagmire, soh ey stops a bit, to consider where ey'd getten, for ey didna knoa t' reet road exactly; boh whon ey stood still, t' leet stood still too, on then ey meyd owt that it cum fro an owd ruint tower, an whot ey'd fancied wur one lantern proved twanty, fo' whon ey reacht t' tower an peept in thro' a brok'n winda, ey beheld a seet ey'st neer forgit apack o' witches eigh, witches! sittin' in a ring, wi' their broomsticks an lanterns abowt em!"
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