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'A summons if he willn'd pay for what he gets. 'Nay, the Bible does not say so. 'Ne'er mind th' Bible it's what aw say. After another painful pause, Mrs. Fletcher continued: 'Eh, Mr. Penrose, I do wish aar Moses 'ud find summat else to do nor lendin' brass and collectin' debts. We haven't a friend i' th' world naa, and we used never bein' baat.
They addressed him as 'Owd Brimstone, and made a burlesque of his Calvinistic faith, one going so far as to call him 'a glory bird, while another declared he was 'booked for heaven fust-class baat payin' for his ticket. 'Why should he pay for his ticket, asked an impudent-looking youth, 'when th' Almeety's gan it him? Th' elect awlus travels for naught, durnd they, Amos?
I am looking after the hundredth the one that went astray. 'Better leave her alone, Mr. Penrose. There's an owd sayin' i' these parts that yo' cornd go into th' mill baat gettin' dusted. That means in yur talk that yo' cornd touch pitch baat gettin' blacked. If thaa goes to Mrs. Stott's they'll say thaart goan for naught good.
'Thee howd thi tung. I know mi business baat bein' helped or hindered by thee, or onybody else. This last with biting emphasis, as though to include the pastor. Then, turning to Mr. Penrose, he continued: 'Hoo'd let 'em off if hoo'd her way, but that's noan o' my creed. 'I think her creed is the better of the two, though, Mr. Fletcher. If thine enemy hunger, give him
'If I read th' Bible reet, said Amos Entwistle, returning to the fray, 'if I read th' Bible reet, a felley once coome to Jesus Christ an' axed Him if mony or few wur saved; and all he geet for an answer wur, "Thee mind and geet saved thisel'; it'll tak' thee all thy time wi'out botherin' abaat others." An' I think it'll tak' us all aar time baat botherin' abaat Amanda Stott.
'Come, Amos, thaa's goin' a bit too fur, interrupted Abraham Lord. 'If yo're baan to insult th' parson, yo've no need to insult them as is up aboon "ministerin' sperits," as th' apostle cos em. 'We know thaa'rt no angel, Amos, baat thi tellin' us, said Malachi o' th' Mount. 'I durnd know as I want to be one afore mi time, Malachi: an' I'm noan baan to do as they do till I ged amang 'em.
Suddenly he was recalled to his position as the pastor of the church by the voice of old Enoch, mellow as the tones of the flute on which he so often tuned his soul in moods of sorrow and sin. How long Enoch had been talking Mr. Penrose knew not; but what he heard in the rude yet kindly vernacular of the moors was: 'Let's show mercy, lads! Noan o' us con howd up aar yeds baat it.
It's a long road, I know, when fo'k luk for'ards; but it's soon getten o'er, and when thaa looks back'ards it's nobbud short. I tell thee I've tramped it, and I durnd know as I'm a war woman for the journey. It's hard wark partin' wi' your own; but then theer's th' comfort o' havin' had 'em. I'd rayther hev a child and bury it, nor be baat childer, like Miriam Heap yonder.
"Ye can baat the baaters," exclaimed Terry, rising to his feet, and shaking hands with his victor. "I niver met any one who could down me in that sthyle. I don't know how ye did the same, but I haven't any doubts that ye done it, as me great uncle remarked whin the cannon ball took off his head." With the same shadowy smile Deerfoot looked inquiringly at Fred Linden.
'Did th' owd powse say that, lass? cried Milly's mother. 'I nobbud wish I'd yerd him. He's lived more nor thirty year baat one, an' a bonny speciment he is. Bud it's a gradely job for th' woman 'at missed him. He were welly weddin' Malachi o' th' Mount's wife once over. 'Yi; hoo'd a lucky miss, an' no mistak'. But happen hoo'd ha' snapped him. 'Never, lad.
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