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What's what yo've done sin' to what yo' did afore? Yo' conna wipe that out and yo' conna mak' me forget. I hate yo', an' th' worse because I wur beginnin' to be content a bit. I hate mysen. I ought to ha' knowed" wildly "he would ha' knowed whether I wur true or false, poor chap he would ha' knowed."
'If Molly is in t' orchard, I'll go find her, said Sylvia. Corney, with a knowing look, which made Sylvia hate her for the moment. 'A've not forgotten as a were young mysen. Tak' care; there's a pool o' mucky watter just outside t' back-door.
He hasn't getten th' white choaker on ta morn," another lad would say, and I had to double my fists hard i' th' bottom of my Sunday coat, and say to mysen, "If 'twere Monday and I warn't a member o' the Primitive Methodists, I'd leather all th' lot of yond'." That was th' hardest of all to know that I could fight and I mustn't fight. Sympathetic grunts from Mulvaney.
"How do you know that?" I asked. "By the print," was the quick reply. "It tells yow all about him." I fetched the fly-sheet down, held it out to her, and said sharply, "Read it to me!" I thought this would clean beat her, but she said, simply enough, "I canna rade it mysen, but I've heard it read lots o' times." "Have you heard it read?" I asked the man.
'Observe, charged Wesley, 'it is not your business to preach so many times, or to take care of this or that society, but to save as many souls as you can." "Now, then, that's enough. Phyllis, dearie, lift t' candle and both o' you come wi' me; I've got summat to say mysen happen."
I seen t' wounded man mysen wi' my own eyes; and he'll live! he'll live! Niver a man died yet, wi' such a strong purpose o' vengeance in him. 'Damn 'em! said Daniel, in soliloquy, and under his breath.
First time I seed her I says to mysen, 'Theer's a lass 'at's seed trouble; an' somehow every toime I seed her afterward I says to mysen, 'Theer's a lass 'at's seed trouble. It wur i' her eye she had a soft loike brown eye, Mester an' it wur i' her voice her voice wur soft loike, too I sometimes thowt it wur plain to be seed even i' her dress.
'I towd him mysen, said Mrs. Goodall, ''Er's held back all this long, let 'er stop as 'er is. 'E'd none ha' had thee for my tellin' tha hears. No, 'e's a fool, an' I know it. I says to him, 'Tha looks a man, doesn't ter, at thy age, goin' an' openin' to her when ter hears her scrat' at th' gate, after she's done gallivantin' round wherever she'd a mind.
By this time the man came up to him and said, "Why, Abe, whatever art ta swearing abaat soa on a Sunday noight?" "Swearing! me swearing!" exclaimed Abe. "I'm noan swearing, my lad." "But I yeerd the' mysen." "When?" "Naa, this minute; thaa called somebody a lying owd devil, and sich loike."
This is what comes o' lettin' women out o' t' place God put 'em in." "She's gettin' that near and close," said cook, "I wouldn't stop wi' her for nowt. It's been, 'Ann, be careful here, and, 'Ann, don't waste there, till I'se fair sick o' it. She'll not get me to mak' mysen as mean as that. Such like goings on, I nivver!"
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