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"'What if her father can't leave her much gear, she has a head that's worth all the gold in Willy's pocket, and more. Then says 'Becca, 'What about Kitty Jackson? 'Shaf, says I, 'she's always curlin' her hair before her bit of a looking-glass. 'And what about Maggie of Armboth? says 'Becca.
There were Thomas Fell and Adam Rutledge, Job Leathes and Luke Cockrigg, John Jackson of Armboth, and little Reuben Thwaite. His reverence cut up the ham into slices as formal as his creed, while old Matthew poured out the contents of two huge black jacks. Robbie Anderson carried the plates to and fro; Mrs. Branthwaite and Liza served out the barley and oaten bread.
"You know, I've been over to Gosforth it's a long ride I borrowed Jackson's pony from Armboth; and what a wild country it is, to be sure! It blew a gale on Stye Head. It's bleak enough up there on a day like this, mother. I could scarce hold the horse." "I don't wonder, Ralph; but see, here's thy poddish thou must be fair clemm'd." "No, no; I called at Broom Hill."
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