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'Uncle Reuben! he shouted, stopping the noise for a moment, 'Uncle Reuben, Louie's turned sick! She's clemmed wi t' cold. If yo doan't open th' door, I'll go across to Wigson's, and tell 'em as Louie's parishin, an yo're bein th' death on her. The bolt shot back, and there stood Reuben, his red hair sticking up wildly from his head, his frame shaking with unusual excitement.
That's why I browt t' rugs, of course. Gells never think o' nothin. It's parishin cowd here, neets fit to tie yo up in knots wi th' rheumatics, like Jim Spedding, if yo doan't mind yorsel. It wor only laying out a neet on Frimley Moor poachin, I guess 'at twisted Jim that way. Louie's countenance fell. Jim Spedding was a little crooked greengrocer in Clough End, of whom she had a horror.
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