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I'll make ye as pretty a little stone as iver ye saw what'll last too! ay, last till th' Almighty comes a' tearin' down in clouds o' glory. A stone well bedded in, ye unnerstan'? one as'll stay upright no slop work. An' if ye can't think of a hepitaph for yerself I'll write one for ye there now!
"Ye see, Mis' Deane, it's like this," he said "I as good as promised the poor old gaffer as I'd do 'im a tombstone for nuthin', an' I'm 'ere to say as I aint a-goin' back on that. But I must take my time on it. I'd like to think out a speshul hepitaph an' doin' portry takes a bit of 'ard brain work.
A marriage! an' I sez, 'Not at all, Twitt not at all, Mister Reay, if I may make so bold, but slippin' on peel don't mean marriage, nor yet clinkers, though two spoons in a saucer does convey 'ints o' the same, an' two spoons was in Twitt's saucer only this very mornin'. Which I wishes both man an' woman as runs the risk everlastin' joy! An' Twitt, as is allus puttin' in 'is word where 'taint wanted, sez, 'Don't talk about everlastin' joy, mother, 'tis like a hepitaph' which I answers quick an' sez, 'Your mind may run on hepitaphs, Twitt, seein' 'tis your livin', but mine don't do no such thing, an' when I sez everlastin' joy for man an' wife, I means it. An' then Mister Reay comes an' pats me on the shoulder cosy like an' sez, 'Right you are, Mrs.
Some folks die as is bound to be missed, an' some folks lives on as one 'ud be glad to see in their long 'ome peaceful at rest, forbye their bein' born so grumblesome like. Twitt 'ud be at 'is best composin' a hepitaph for Mr. Arbroath now!" As she said this the corners of her mouth, which usually drooped in somewhat lachrymose lines, went up in a whimsical smile.
Why do ye want to put a lie on a stone for the Lord to read? But 'e was as obst'nate as pigs. 'Dish-clouts or no dish-clouts, sez 'e, 'I'll 'ave 'er fixed up proper as my Dearly-Beloved Wife for sight o' parson an' neighbours. 'Ah, Sam! sez I 'I've got ye! It's for parson an' neighbours ye want the hepitaph, an' not for the Lord at all!
Twitt irreverently. "They talks a lot they talks yer 'ed off but they doos onny 'arf the labour as they spends in waggin' their tongues. An' for a hepitaph, they none of 'em aint got an idee. It's allus Scripter texes with 'em, they aint got no 'riginality.
"And the only true thing about that hepitaph," continued Twitt, folding up the paper again and returning it to its former receptacle, "is the words 'Here Lies." Helmsley laughed, and Twitt laughed with him.
Twitt were constant visitors, and many were the would-be jocose remarks of the old stonemason on David's temporary truancy. "Wanted more work, did ye?" And thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of his corduroys, Twitt looked at him with a whimsical complacency. "Well, why didn't ye come down to the stoneyard an' learn 'ow to cut a hepitaph?
Bible texes is goin' out o' fashion it's best to 'ave somethin' orig'nal an' for originality I don't think I can be beat in these parts. I'll do ye yer hepitaph with pleasure!" "That will be kind!" And Helmsley smiled a little sadly "What will you say of me when I'm gone?" Twitt looked at him thoughtfully, with his head very much on one side.
And they'd tell tales in th' Sunday-school o' bad lads as had been thumped and brayed for bird-nesting o' Sundays and playin' truant o' week days, and how they took to wrestlin', dog-fightin', rabbit-runnin', and drinkin', till at last, as if 'twere a hepitaph on a gravestone, they damned him across th' moors wi', 'an' then he went and 'listed for a soldier, an' they'd all fetch a deep breath, and throw up their eyes like a hen drinkin'."
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