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I'd kape sober all my life ef it was awnly t' spite yo'. An' I'll maake 'er 'appy. For I rackon theer's noothin' I could think on would spite yo' moor. Yo' want mae t' marry 'er t' poonish 'er. I knaw." "That'll do, Greatorex," said Rowcliffe. "Ay. It'll do," said Greatorex with a grin of satisfaction. He turned to Alice, the triumph still flaming in his face. "Yo're nat afraaid of mae?"
There'll be noothin' in it. He made her read it. There was nothing in it. It was just a nice letter from a good boy, saying that he had been knocked over in 'a bit of a scrap, but was nearly all right, and hoped his father and mother were well, 'as it leaves me at present. But when it was done, Father Time took off his hat, bent his grey head, and solemnly thanked his God, in broad Westmorland.
"So am I." She sighed. "Wall then yo must end it." "How can I end it?" "Yo knaw how." "Oh Jim darling haven't I told you?" "Yo've toald mae noothin' that makes a hap'orth o' difference to mae. Yo've coom to mae. Thot's all I keer for." He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the house-place. "Let me shaw yo t' house now you've coom." His voice pleaded and persuaded.
He received Nelly's remarks with a furtive smile, as though he were only waiting for her to have done, and when they ceased, he drew a letter slowly from his pocket. 'D'ye see that, Mum? Nelly nodded. 'I'se juist gotten it from t' Post Office. They woant gie ye noothin' till it's forced oot on 'em. But I goa regular, an to-day owd Jacob 'at's him as keps t' Post Office handed it ower.
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