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"Nat Assy Gaale?" he said. "Assy Gaale? 'Oo's she to mook 'er naame with 'er dirty toongue?" "Yo'll not goa far thot road, Jimmy. 'Tis wi' t' womenfawlk yo'll 'aave t' racken." He knew it. The first he had to reckon with was Maggie. Maggie, being given notice, had refused to take it. "Yo' can please yoresel, Mr. Greatorex. I can goa. I can goa.
She'd coot 'er toong out foorst, Assy would." "Nawbody'll get it out of mae, Mrs. Gale, though it's wae as 'as to sooffer for 't." "Eh, but Dr. Rawcliffe's a good maan, and 'e'll mak' it oop to yo', naw feear, Mrs. Blenkiron." "And which of 'em will it bae, Mrs. Gaale, think you?" "I caann't saay. But it woonna bae t' eldest. Nor t' yoongest joodgin'."
Naw woonder Assy Gaale wouldn't 'ave yo, for all yo've laft her wi' t' lil baaby." "Who toald yo she wouldn't 'ave mae?" "Naybody toald mae. But I knaw. I knaw. I wouldn't 'ave yo myself ef yo aassked mae. I want naw droonkards to marry mae." Greatorex became pensive. "Yo'd bae freetened o' mae, Maaggie?" he asked. And Maggie, seeing her advantage, drove it home.
In the surgery Rowcliffe whistled inaudibly. That was indeed a desperate shift. Rowcliffe had turned and was now standing with his back to the fire. He was intensely interested. "Assy Gaale? He would n' coom for Assy's asskin', a man like Greatorex." Mrs. Blenkiron's blood, the blood of the Greatorexes, was up.
But ef I goa yo'll nat find anoother woman as'll coom to yo'. There's nat woon as'll keer mooch t' work for yore laady." "Wull yo' wark for 'er, Maaggie?" he had said. And Maggie, with a sullen look and hitching her coarse apron, had replied remarkably: "Ef Assy Gaale can wash fer er I rackon I can shift to baake an' clane." "Wull yo' waait on 'er?" he had persisted.
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