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'I'm gooin up theer Easter Eve Saturday week' and she pointed over her shoulder to the Scout. 'Gells conno be out neets, said David firmly; 'if I goo I can tell yo. 'Yo'll not goo without me I'd tell Aunt Hannah! 'Yo've naw moor sense nor rotten sticks! said David, angrily. 'Yo'll get your death, an Aunt Hannah 'll be stick stock mad wi boath on us. If I goo she'll niver find out.
'Well, that'll be sharp wark for th' eyes if they're gone to Edale, said Jim, with a laugh. 'Its a good step fro here to Edale. 'Aye, an soom o' 't bad ground, said Reuben uneasily 'vara bad ground. 'Aye, it's not good walkin, neets. If they conno see their way when they get to the top o' t' Downfall, they'll stay theer till it gets mornin, if they've ony sort o' gumption.
"What wi's restin' so bad o' neets, an' th' gettin' up an' down to him, an' feedin' him, an' shiftin' him he's that 'eavy I cannot stir him mysel' I 'ave to wait till th' lads comes back fro' work eh, it's weary work! I'm very nigh killed wi't." "Well, but if he gets better, you know," suggests the visitor, "you'll be glad to have nursed him so well."
That's why I browt t' rugs, of course. Gells never think o' nothin. It's parishin cowd here, neets fit to tie yo up in knots wi th' rheumatics, like Jim Spedding, if yo doan't mind yorsel. It wor only laying out a neet on Frimley Moor poachin, I guess 'at twisted Jim that way. Louie's countenance fell. Jim Spedding was a little crooked greengrocer in Clough End, of whom she had a horror.
Yet you drive him up there every night of the year." "Bad dreams, lad; bad dreams," said the old man, shaking his head with portentous gravity, "forby the boggle of auld Wilson that's maybe what maks Sim ga rakin aboot the fell o' neets without ony eerand."
But aw'll come an' look at it. An' away he went to th' wesh-house, wi' th' little lass pooin' at him, like a kitlin' drawin' a stone-cart. Th' owd woman followed him, grumblin' o' th' road, 'Isaac, this is what comes on tho stoppin' so lat' i'th town of a neet. There's olez some blunderin' job or another. Aw lippen on tho happenin' a sayrious mischoance, some o' these neets.
'Ay, but noan so good as my Margaret, said the old man, looking at her wistfully. But yo'll wear yorsel down, Margaret; 'yo've had no rest for neets. Yo're allus toilin' and moilin', an I'm no worth it, Margaret. The tears gushed to the wife's eyes. It was only with the nearness of death that 'Lias seemed to have found out his debt to her.
If he'd yeerd yo just now but, by t' Lord's blessin, he did na he'd ha worked himsel up fearfu'! I'd ha had naw sleep wi him for neets like it wor i' th' spring. Yo munna yo munna! He's all I ha his livin 's my livin, Davy an when he's took away why, I'll mak shift soomhow to dee too!
'Theer's my grandfeyther, said 'Lias, almost in a whisper, 'an owd Needham an his two brithers, an yoong Jack Needham's woife her as losst her babby an yoong lads an lasses fro Clough End, childer awmost, and t' coonstable, an Passon Maine Ay ay yo've doon it! Yo've doon it! She'll mak naw moor mischeef neets she's gay quiet now! T' watter's got her fasst enough!
'I doan't know, said the boy, 'what soart o' tales? 'Why, they'd use to say th' witch walked, on soom neets i' th' year Easter Eve, most pertickerlerly an foak wor feeart to goo onywhere near it on those neets. But doan't yo goo listenin to tales, Davy, said Reuben, with a paternal effusion most rare with him, and born of his recent proceedings; 'yo'll only freeten yorsel o' neets for nothin.
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