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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Toast a bit o' hard brade," said Nanny, "an' put it into't." I did so. The old woman put the kettle on, and scaled the fire; and then, settling herself in her chair again, she began to re-arrange her knitting-needles. Seeing that I liked my sops, she said, "Reitch some moor cake-brade. Jenny'll toast it for yo."
Old Jenny'll see to fayther while I'm off. It'll be all right if I'm at home some time in the forenoon. So you see, mates, it couldn't be better; as the parson says, it's quite a providence." "Well, what say you?" cried Will Jones. "Shall we strike hands on it?" All at once shook hands, vowing to serve out poor Johnson.
And, of course, I asked her all the more. Then says she, 'Jenny'll never forgive me if I tell you. 'Jenny shan't never know, says I; and I swore it, too. Then says Amelia, 'I can't abear to tell you, Tom, for I know it will break your 'eart. But Jenny, she don't care for you no more; it's Joe Wheeler as she fancies now, and she's out with him this very minute, as here we stand.
"Just as soon as Harry is well, darling. Ask grandpa to pray that he will be well soon, won't you?" "Jenny'll pay," lisped the baby, from Doctor Fraser's arms, where, with her cap on one side and her little feet kicking delightedly, she was beguiled by the promise of a birthday cake over at grandma's.
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