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Thay sed I could go in an' vinish the sausingers now, an' that wur what I intended to do. I asked the young 'ooman for a bottle o' ale, when she put a tallish bottle down wi' a beg head; an' as I wur dry I knocked the neck off, an' the ale kum a-fizzing out like ginger pop, an' 'twer no use to try to stop the fizzle. I had aal I could get in a glass, an' it zeemed goodish.
Sir Maunder Meddleby thought for a while, or, at any rate, meant to be thinking, ere ever he dared to deliver himself of all his weighty judgment. "I've a-knowed she, my Lord Witcher, ever since her wore that haigh. A purty wanch, and a peart one. But her wanteth the vinish of the coort. Never do no good wi'out un, whan a coomth, as her must, to coorting."
"Ammytoor," said the travelled sign-painter. "That be it," said the innkeeper. "A ammytoor. And he was short of money, I fancy, and so 'twas settled a should paint this mare of my father's to set against the bill. And a draad and a squinted at un, and a squinted at un and a draad, and laid the paint on till the pictur' looked all in a mess, and then he took un away to vinish.
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