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Aw connot seigh weel at neet, wi o' th' lamps; an afoor aw geet oop wi' her, hoo's reawnd th' nook, and gwon fro mo seet. Col. G. There are ten thousands girls in London you might take for your own under such circumstances not seeing more than the backs of them. Th. Ten theawsand girls like mo Mattie, saysto? wi'her greight eighes and her lung yure? Puh! Col.
G. That's your business. Bring her, and there will be your money. Th. Dun yo think, sir, o' the gouden suverings i' th' Bank ov England would put a sharper edge on mo oud eighes when they look for mo lass? Eh, mon! Yo dunnot know the heart ov a feyther ov the feyther ov a lass-barn, sir. Han yo kilt and buried her, and nea be yo sorry for't?
Call your James will you, aunt? We must have the old man put to bed. But the poor girl looks the worse of the two! She can have the spare room, and William can sleep on the sofa in mine. Mrs. C. I'll see to it. Exit. GER. goes towards THOMAS. Tho. Coom whoam coom whoam, Mattie! Thi mother, hoo's cryin' her eighes eawt to whoam. Mat. I'll run for a doctor first, father. Tho. No, no, chylt!
Col. G. What story have you to tell the police then? They'll want to know. Th. Story saysto? The dule's i' th' mon! Didn't aw seigh th' mon 'at stealed her away goo into this heawse not mich over hauve an hour ago? Aw seigh him wi' mo own eighes. Col. G. Why didn't you speak to him? Th. He poppit in at th' same dur, and there aw've been a-watching ever since. Aw've not took my eighes off ov it.
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