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Updated: June 20, 2025
'Hearken, hearken, shoo's cursing on 'em! muttered Joseph, towards whom I had been steering. He sat within earshot, milking the cows by the light of a lantern, which I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I would send it back on the morrow, rushed to the nearest postern. 'Maister, maister, he's staling t' lanthern! shouted the ancient, pursuing my retreat. 'Hey, Gnasher! Hey, dog!
"'Shoo's made fowks i' Cohen-eead that thrang wi' wark they've no time to think o' sins. "'An' what have thy flies bin doin' all t' time? asks Satan. 'They've bin laikin', that's what they've bin doin'. They ought to hae bin buzzin' round fowks' heeads an' whisperin' sinful thowts into their lug-hoils. How mony flies does thou keep at Cohen-eead?
"She doesn't bide here; shoo's up at th' Heights." "Are you housekeeper, then?" "Eea, aw keep th' house," she replied. "Well, I'm Mr. Lockwood, the master. Are there any rooms to lodge me in, I wonder? I wish to stay all night." "T' maister!" she cried in astonishment. "Yah sud ha' sent word. They's nowt norther dry nor mensful abaht t' place!"
"Shoo's a gooid 'un, is schooil-missus, for all shoo's nobbut fower foot eleven," began Stackhouse; "knows how to keep t' barns i' their places wi'out gettin' crabby or usin' ower mich stick." "Aye, and shoo's gotten a vast o' book-larnin' intul her heead," said Throup. "I reckon shoo's a marrow for t' parson, ony day."
Time was short, as the performance was to be that evening, so they dispersed to make their arrangements. Ted Blackwood, a member of the church choir, agreed to bring his father's cart. "I'll take t'owd mare," he grinned. "Shoo's steady, and won't bolt when th' harmonium starts. Aye, I've a big stable lantern as 'ull do too." Here indeed was an excitement for a young American visitor.
No magistrate was at hand to put a stop to the traffic in human life, and the single policeman, realising that he had no written instructions to deal with such a case as this, had discreetly withdrawn himself to the remotest quarter of the town. So Learoyd was left free to conduct his infamous auction. "Shoo's for sale," he cried, "same as if shoo were a cauf; and shoo goes to t' highest bidder."
I hed aimed to dee wheare I'd sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I'd lug my books up into t' garret, and all my bits o' stuff, and they sud hev' t' kitchen to theirseln; for t' sake o' quietness. It wur hard to gie up my awn hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that! But nah, shoo's taan my garden fro' me, and by th' heart, maister, I cannot stand it!
'I'd rayther, by th' haulf, hev' 'em swearing i' my lugs fro'h morn to neeght, nor hearken ye hahsiver! said the tenant of the kitchen, in answer to an unheard speech of Nelly's. Oh! ye're a raight nowt; and shoo's another; and that poor lad 'll be lost atween ye. Poor lad! he added, with a groan; 'he's witched: I'm sartin on't.
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