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But Jim's moother that died, she wuss Choorch. And that slip of a laass, when John Greatorex coom courtin', she turned 'im. 'E was that soft wi' laasses. 'Er feyther 'e was steward to lord o' t' Manor and 'e was Choorch and all t' family saame as t' folk oop at Manor. Yo med say, Jim Greatorex, 'e's got naw religion. Neither Choorch nor Chapel 'e is. Nowt to coomfort 'im."

Thanking the lieutenant, we left the wardroom, as may be supposed, decorously enough; but we had no sooner got out on the dock without than Mick executed a wild caper, which made the sentry grin. "Bedad, Tom," he said, loud enough for the marine to hear, "me fayther allers s'id Oi'd be a man afore me moother; an', faith, Oi'm thet now, plaize the pigs!"

Between the sobs Essy looked up with her shining eyes. She whispered. "Will yo kape mae, Moother?" "I sail 'ave t' kape yo. There's nawbody 'll keer mooch fer thot job but yore moother." But Essy still wept. Once started on the way of weeping, she couldn't stop. Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Gale's face became distorted. She got up and put her hand heavily on her daughter's shoulder.

"Squire didn't ask no more, for there was too much to do getting out your moother, lad, and trying to save the furnitur, 'sides throwing watter on the fire. "Bud, theer, it warn't no use. Plaace burned like a bit o' paaper, and we could do nowt bud save the best o' the things." "Did you save the clock?" asked Dick.

For a moment or so she stared idly at the square window with the blue-black night behind it. Then she looked down. She smiled faintly. One by one she took the little garments spread out in front of her. She folded them in a pile. Her face was still and dreamy. She opened the scullery door and looked in. "Good-night, Moother." "Good-night, Assy." It was striking seven as she passed the church.

Nelly heartily agreed, adding 'I may be going to London next week, Mr. Backhouse. You say your son will be in the London Hospital. Shall I go and see him? Backhouse looked at her cautiously. 'I doan't know, Mum. His moother will be goin', likely. 'Oh, I don't want to intrude, Mr. Backhouse. But if she doesn't go?

"Faith, Tom," whispered Mick to me in an aside that was quite loud enough for the `Jaunty' to catch his remark, "ivverybody, sure, 's kapin' ther' oye on ye; an' ef all the jokers go on loike thet, ye'll be havin' what ye're moother called t'other day, bedad, a' 'tack ov `oye- strikes, if ye don't look out sharp!"

"Doänt thou marry for munny; but goä wheer munny is," he said to his son Sammy, who wanted to marry the poor parson's daughter. And he held up his own love-making as an inspiration for Sammy: And I went wheer munny wor, and thy moother coom to and Wi' lots o' munny laäid by, and a nicetish bit o' land.

An' yo've naw 'scuse for disgracin' yoresel. Yo was brought oop ralegious an' respactable. Did yo aver 'ear saw mooch aa a bad woord?" "It's doon, Moother, it's doon. There's naw good taalkin'." "Eh! Yo saay it's doon, it's doon, an' yo think nowt o' 't. An' nowt yo think o' t' trooble yo're brengin' on mae. I sooppawse yo'll be tallin' mae naxt yo looved 'im! Yo looved'im!"

"Never God made vog as could stop their eyesen," he whispered in answer, fearfully; "here us be by the hollow ground. Zober, lad, goo zober now, if thee wish to see thy moother." For I was inclined, in the manner of boys, to make a run of the danger, and cross the Doone-track at full speed; to rush for it, and be done with it.