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Updated: May 9, 2025
"An naw great matter, if it hasn't," returned the miller's wife. "Bess Demdike's neaw great loss." "Is this Bess Demdike's child?" cried Paslew, recoiling. "Yeigh," exclaimed the miller's wife. And mistaking the cause of Paslew's emotion, she added, triumphantly, to her daughter, "Ey towd te, wench, ot t' lort abbut would be of my way o' thinking. T' chilt has got the witch's mark plain upon her.
Isherwood wur theer; an' her at's Mrs Wood neaw; an' two or three fro Yawshur road on. It wur th' grand'st sing 'at ever I wur at i' my life.... Eh, I's never forget th' practice-neets 'at we use't to have at owd Israel Grindrod's! Johnny Brello wur one on 'em. He's bin deead a good while.... That's wheer I let of our Sam. He sang bass at that time.... Poor Johnny!
"Aha!" exclaimed the squire, recovering courage, for he thought this did not sound like the language of a demon. "I am known am I? Why should I go hence, and at whose bidding?" "Ask neaw questions, mon, boh ge," replied the voice, "or it shan be warse fo' thee.
But one half o'th world doesn't know how tother lives. My husban' lay ill i' bed three year; an' he suffered to that degree that he was weary o' life long before it were o'er. At after we lost him, these bad times coom on, an' neaw, aw think we're poo'd deawn as nee to th' greawnd as ony body can be.
"An so this is your grand scheme, eh, sir?" "This is my scheme, Jennet," said Potts, "and a notable scheme it is, my little lass. Think it over. "Boh, ey am neaw witch, ey tell ye, mon," cried Jennet, angrily. "But you're a witch's bairn, my little lassy," replied Potts, "and that's just as bad, and you'll grow up to be a witch in due time that is, if your career be not cut short.
"Beside," as the Labour Master said, "yo'd hardly believe what a difference there it i'th wark o' two men wortchin' at the same heap, sometimes. There's a great deal i'th breaker, neaw; some on 'em's more artful nor others. They finden out that they can break 'em as fast again at after they'n getten to th' wick i'th inside.
"Some dozen men, armed, against a poor defenceless old woman, are surely enough." "Owd, boh neaw defenceless, Mester Ruchot," rejoined Baldwyn. "Yo canna go i' too great force on an expedition like this. Malkin Tower is a varry strong place, os yo'n find."
"Yeigh, squoire!" responded Sparshot, who had seized hold of Nance "hoo be safe enough." "Nan Redferne is no witch," said Richard Assheton, authoritatively. "Neaw witch, Mester Ruchot!" cried the beadle in amazement. "No more than any of these lasses around us," said Richard. "Release her, Sparshot." "I forbid him to do so, till she has been examined," cried a sharp voice.
Boh Granny Demdike is used to deal wi' sich folk." "Oh! why was I born?" cried Alizon, bitterly. "Yo may weel ask that," responded Jennet, with a loud unfeeling laugh; "fo ey see neaw great use yo're on, wi' yer protty feace an bright een, onless it be to may one hate ye." "Is it possible you can say this to me, Jennet?" cried Alizon. "What have I done to incur your hatred?
Beside, thae'rt younger an' strunger than hoo is." " Eh, God bless tho, lass," replied Martha, "aw know o' abeawt it. Aw'd rayther Sarah would stop, for hoo'll be ill. Aw can go forrud by mysel', weel enough. It's noan so fur, neaw." But, here, Sarah, the eldest of the three, laid her hand once more upon the shoulder of her friend, and said in an earnest tone, "Ann! it will not do, my lass!
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