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It's bad weather fur thee to be out in by thysen. Tak' my coat an' wrop thee up in it, an' tak' hold o' my arm an' let me help thee along. "She looks up right straightforrad i' my face wi' her brown eyes, an' I tell yo' Mester, I wur glad I wur a honest man 'stead o' a rascal, fur them quiet eyes 'ud ha' fun me out afore I'd ha' done sayin' my say if I'd meant harm.
"What are you doing, clumsy, drunken fool?" the mother cried. "Then tha should get the flamin' thing thysen. Tha should get up, like other women have to, an' wait on a man." "Wait on you wait on you?" she cried. "Yes, I see myself." "Yis, an' I'll learn thee tha's got to. Wait on ME, yes tha sh'lt wait on me " "Never, milord. I'd wait on a dog at the door first." "What what?"
Thee must go an' see thy brother, an' bring me word what he's a-doin'. Mester Irwine said he'd come an' tell me, but I canna make out so well what it means when he tells me. Thee must go thysen, sin' Adam wonna let me go to him. Write a letter to Dinah canstna? Thee't fond enough o' writin' when nobody wants thee." "I'm not sure where she'd be i' that big town," said Seth.
"Th'art a coward and a fool," I said to mysen; an' I wrestled i' my mind again' him till, when we come to Garstang's Copper-hole, I laid hold o' the preacher and lifted him up over my head and held him into the darkest on it. "Now, lad," I says "it's to be one or t'other on us thee or me for 'Liza Roantree. Why, isn't thee afraid for thysen?" I says, for he were still i' my arms as a sack.
Medlock told me I'd have to be careful or you wouldn't know what I was sayin'. I mean can't you put on your own clothes?" "No," answered Mary, quite indignantly. "I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course." "Well," said Martha, evidently not in the least aware that she was impudent, "it's time tha' should learn. Tha' cannot begin younger. It'll do thee good to wait on thysen a bit.
Where did ye have yer last drink?" "No wine, no beer, nor spirituous liquors have I tasted for sixty-one years come Martinmas," whimpered the old man. And he gave another lurch against the policeman. "My name's Shushions!" And he repeated in a frantic treble, "My name's Shushions!" "Go and bury thysen, owd gaffer!" a Herculean young collier advised him.
"An' she's Mr. Craven's but I'm to do the housemaid's work up here an' wait on you a bit. But you won't need much waitin' on." "Who is going to dress me?" demanded Mary. Martha sat up on her heels again and stared. She spoke in broad Yorkshire in her amazement. "Canna' tha' dress thysen!" she said. "What do you mean? I don't understand your language," said Mary. "Eh! I forgot," Martha said. "Mrs.
Yo' see, Mester, an' we aw see sometime He thinks on us an' gi's us a lift, but hasna tha thysen seen times when tha stopt short an' axed thysen, 'Wheer's God-a'-moighty 'at he isna straighten things out a bit? Th' world's i' a power o' a snarl. Th' righteous is forsaken, 'n his seed's beggin' bread.
The lad looked piteously at Dave and his companion of the rabbit warren two inseparable friends and felt that his chance of seeing the ruffs and reeves captured was very small. "Are you going to-day, Dave?" he faltered. "Nay, lad," said Dave dryly, "yow've had enough o' the bog for one day. Go and dry thysen. I'll coom and fetch thee to-morrow."
'Tha'lt rouse thysen up a bit again, now, Maggie, the father-in-law said and then to me: ''ers not bin very bright sin' Alfred came whoam, an' the bod flyed awee. 'E come whoam a Wednesday night, Alfred did. But ay, you knowed, didna yer. Ay, 'e comed 'a Wednesday an' I reckon there wor a bit of a to-do between 'em, worn't there, Maggie?
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