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Updated: June 25, 2025
Th' little thing's noather feyther nor mother, neaw. It's gwon eawt a beggin' this morning wi' my two childer. My mother lives with us, too," continued she; "hoo's gooin' i' eighty-four, an' hoo's eighteen pence a week off th' teawn. There's seven on us, o'together, an' we'n had eawr share o' trouble, one way an' another, or else aw'm chetted.
'I conno ha her in here washin days, nor the children noather. David opened the door pointed out to him. He found himself in a rough weaving shed almost filled by a large hand-loom, with its forest of woodwork rising to the ceiling, its rolls of perforated pattern-paper, its great cylinders below, and many-coloured shuttles to either hand. But to-day it stood idle, the weaver was not at work.
But his brows frowned, and his eyes were still alive and bright, only now, as the watcher thought, with anger. Meynell hesitated. "I will say the church prayers, if you wish it, Bateson. Of course I will say them." "But I doan't believe in 'em," said the sick man, smiling again, "an' you doan't believe in 'em, noather, if folk say true! Don't tha be vexed I'm not saying it to cheek tha. But Mr.
An' thaa didn't wear shoon noather, thaa wore clogs clogs as big as boats, Mr. Penrose; an' they co'd him Clitter-clatter for a nickname. Hasto forgetten, Malachi? 'Aw wish thaa wouldn't be so plaguey partic'lar, lass, an' let a felley get on wi' his tale, said Malachi to his wife. And then, turning to Mr.
You trusted the wrong people, then. Tho. It taks no mak o' a warlock to tell mo that, maister. It's smo' comfort, noather. War. Well now, you give me a turn, and hear what I've got to say. Tho. Yo're o' tarred wi' th' same stick. Ivvery body maks gam ov th' poor owd mon! Let me goo, maister. Aw want mo chylt, mo Mattie! War. You must wait till Mr. Gervaise's man comes back. Tho.
I was once there for a whole week. Th. Nay, nay. Noather o' those plazes. Fur away off 'em. Col. G. But what does it matter where I have or haven't been? Th. Mun aw tell tho again? Aw've lost summut, aw tell tho. Didsto ne'er hear tell ov th' owd woman 'at lost her shillin'? Hoo couldn't sit her deawn beawt hoo feawnd it! Yon's me. Col. G. Ah! now I begin to guess! You don't mean you've lost your
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