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Updated: May 17, 2025
"He should ha' takken th' owd mother, then. She's none wanted; but the dear lad the only one left out o' six oh, Reuben, Reuben, wunna ye never speak to your poor father again?" He looked on the corpse fixedly for some minutes, and then a new thought seemed to strike him. "That's not my lad my merry little lad! I say," he cried, starting up and catching Mr.
I conna get rid on it, an' I conna feel as if I want to. What's up wi' me? What's takken howd on me?" his voice breaking and the words ending in a sharp hysterical gasp like a sob. Bess wrung her towel with a desperate strength which spoke of no small degree of tempestuous feeling. Her brow knit itself and her lips were compressed. "What's happened?" she demanded after a pause.
I'm better worth yo're mettle." "What's takken yo', lass?" said her mother at another time. "Yo're that theer soft about th chap as theer's no makkin' yo' out. Yo' wur nivver loike to be soft afore," somewhat testily. "An' it's noan his good looks, neyther." "No," said Bess "it's noan his good looks." "Happen it's his lack on 'em, then?" "Happen it is."
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