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"Your gran-mother win' ha' enough to do to neet, an so win yo, too, Jem, lettin alone the walk fro here to Malkin Tower." "Weel, gi' me mey supper, an ey'n set out," rejoined Jem. "So ye ha' seen Mistress Nutter?" "Ey found her i' th' Abbey garden," replied Elizabeth, "an we had some tawk together, abowt th' boundary line o' th' Rough Lee estates, and other matters."
"Potts may set out 'o that journey, boh he winna come back again," remarked Jem, in a sombre tone. "Wait till yo'n seen your gran-mother efore ye do owt, lad," said Elizabeth. "Ay, wait," added a voice. "What's that?" demanded Jem, laving down his knife and fork. Elizabeth did not answer in words, but her significant looks were quite response enough for her son.
"Ey knoas it, lad, ey knoas it," replied Elizabeth; "boh fo my own pert ey'm nah afeerd. They darna touch me; an' if they dun, ey con defend mysel reet weel. Here's a letter to thy gran-mother," she added, giving him a sealed packet. "Take care on it." "Fro Mistress Nutter, ey suppose?" asked Jem. "Eigh, who else should it be from?" rejoined Elizabeth.
"That Potts means to visit thy gran-mother to morrow." "Weel!" said Jem, grimly. "An arrest her," pursued Elizabeth. "Easily said," laughed Jem, scornfully, "boh neaw quite so easily done." "Nah quite, Jem," responded Elizabeth, joining in the laugh. "'Specially when th' owd dame's prepared, as she win be now."
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