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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.
His grey hair being slightly ruffled, he had a debonair look, as of a youth who is in love. 'We mun tell 'im it's come, he said slowly, and turning he called: 'Alfred Alfred! Wheer's ter gotten to? Then he turned again to the group. 'Get up then, Maggie, lass, get up wi' thee. Tha ma'es too much o' th'bod. A young man approached, wearing rough khaki and kneebreeches.
"Now, then, young mester," he said, "I've got a straange nice lot o' bait and plenty o' hooks and band, and it's about as good a day for fishing as yow could have. Wheer's young Tom o' Grimsey?" "At home, of course!" said Dick in a snappish way, which he wondered at himself. "At home, o' course?" said Dave quietly as he stood up in the boat resting upon the pole. "Why, he were to be here, ready."
Wheer's the gude of a fuzz-pole o' yeller hair an' a pair o' blue eyes stuck 'pon top of a idle, good-for-nothin' body? Maidens caan't live by looks in these paarts, an' they'll find theerselves in trouble mighty quick if they tries to." Uncle Chirgwin instantly admitted that Mrs. Tregenza had the better of the argument. He was a simple man with a soft heart and no brains worth naming.
Wheer's th' Sunday-school, chylt? Bill. Second door round the corner, sir. Tho. Second dur reawnd th' corner! Which corner, my man? Bill. Round any corner. Second door's all-ways Sunday-school. THOMAS sits down on a door-step. Tho. Eh, but aw be main weary! Surely th' Lord dunnot be a forsakin' ov mo. There's that abeawt th' lost ship.
'Wheer's it coomin' from? says I. 'Now, never you mind, he says. 'It's safe! 'I don't believe a word you're sayin', says I. 'Ye're havin' me for t' mug! that's about it. An' I went on so at him, 'at i' t' end he tell'd me 'at he wor presently goin' to meet Pratt, and 'at he could get t' brass out o' Pratt an' as much more as iwer he liked to ax for.
I tuke some bread an' drippin' long with me. Wheer's Tom to?" "Gone to schule this half-hour. 'Tis nine o'clock an' past. Wheer you bin, I sez? 'Tain't much in your way to rise afore me of a marnin'." "Out through Mouzle to Gorse P'int to see Joe's ship pass by; an' I seen en butivul." "Thank the Lard he's gone. Now, I s'pose, theer'll be a bit peace in the house, an' you'll bide home an' work.
Now, boys, dun yo know wheer's a young woman bi th' name ov Mattie somewheer abeawt Paradise Row? First Boy. Yes, old un. Second Boy. Lots on 'em. Third Boy. Which on em' do you want, Mr. Cricket? Fourth Boy. You ain't peticlar, I s'pose, old corner-bones? First Boy. Don't you fret, old stilts. We'll find you a Mattie. There's plenty on 'em all nice gals. Tho. I want mo own Mattie. First Boy.
"Indeed, yes," said I, beginning to rub my chin, "very easy!" and I sighed. "An' when you looks into a pair o' sweet eyes, an' sees the shine o' the moon in 'em why, it aren't so very fur to 'er lips, are it, Peter? "No," said I, rubbing my chin harder than ever; "no and there's the danger of it." "Wheer's t' danger, Peter?" "Everywhere!"
"But mightn't He favor the whole bilin' of us good'n bad cause He made us?" "Surely not. Wheer's the justice o' that? If He done that, how'd the godly get their fair dues eh? Be the righteous man to share God's Heaven wi' publicans an' sinners? That ed'n justice anyhow. Don't fret, lad; tears won't mend bad years. Bide quiet an' listen to me whiles I pray for 'e."
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