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Go aw MUN! I never wur away fro whoam o' neet i my life, never! Aw connot do it, mon! Beside, thae knows, aw've laft yon lad, an' never a wick soul wi' him! He'd fret hissel' to deoth this neet, mon, if aw didn't go whoam! Aw couldn't sleep a wink for thinkin' abeawt him!
Then in a low tone he added, "Nor nothing to me what comes of his kin afterwards." He paused in his work; his manner changed; he turned to where Mrs. Garth was coiled up before the fire. "Had he any kin, mother?" Mrs. Garth glanced quickly up at her son. "A brother, na mair." "What sort of a man, mother?" "The spit of hissel'." "Seen anything of him?" "Not for twenty year." "Nor want to neither?"
"That is a matter that concerns God and mysel'! The time may come when he'll accuse hissel'. Aa'm prayin' mornin', noon, and night, that the strings of his heart may be broken, and that a penitent condition of mind may take possession of him, and in the fulness of a new borth he may cry aloud, 'O Lord, once I was blind, noo I see!"
"Eh, sich a to-do as he mak's about it you'd never believe," put in the wife, "he'll never let our Gaffer tak' a bit o' credit to hissel' eh, it's terrible how he goes on! I b'lieve if he were fair deein' he'd get up an' walk sooner nor let poor Martin ha' th' satisfaction o' sayin' he'd walked once oftener nor him.
'Why are they sending him to York? What made Philip leave us? Why didn't he come hissel'? 'He couldn't come hissel', he bade me say; because he was bound to be at the lawyer's at five, about yo'r father's business. I think yo' might ha' known he would ha' come for any business of his own; and, about York, it's Philip as telled me, and I never asked why.
"It was, Cookie, but I changed him into a live dog by crossing my fingers. Mind your rabbit's foot. He might eat it, and then very likely we'd have a ghost on our hands again. But I think he'll stay a dog for the present." "Yo' go 'long, Miss Jinny," said Cookie valiantly. "Yo' think I scared of any ghos' what lower hissel to be a live white mong'ol dog?
Having laid aside ambition on her own account, she flung in this remark as an apple of discord. "Jenifer Hosken has a chance. He's fair-skinned hissel', an' Lizzie's too near his own colour. Black's mate is white, as they say." "There's Sue Tregraine. She'll have more money than either, when her father dies." "What, marry one o' Ruan!" the speaker tittered despitefully. "Why not?"
'Kester, feyther's just tiring hissel' wi' weariness an' vexation, sitting by t' fireside wi' his hands afore him, an' nought to do. An' mother and me can't think on aught as 'll rouse him up to a bit of a laugh, or aught more cheerful than a scolding.
An' ye're no' to scale yer tea nor sup the sugar if ony's left in yer cup when ye're dune drinkin'. An' if ye drap yer piece on the floor ye're no' to gang efter it; ye're jist to let on ye've ett it. An' ye're no' 'Deed, Lizzie, interposed her husband, 'ye're the yin to think aboot things. 'Weel, John, if I dinna tell Macgreegor hoo to behave hissel', he'll affront me, etc., etc., etc.
He's in a terrible pore about it. Won't trust hissel' to spake, and don't want to see nobody. But, as I tell'n, there's no call to be shamed; the fella took the belt in the las' round, and turned his man over like a tab. He's a proper angletwitch, that Wendron fella. Stank 'pon en both ends, and he'll rise up in the middle and look at 'ee.
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