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Aye, thae may weel play th' Owd Hundred, divvleskin. Thae's made a funeral o' me this mornin'.... But, aw say, Pudge; th' next time at there's aught o' this sort agate again, aw wish thae'd be as good as keep that pow o' thine to thysel', wilto?
'But if God puts fo'k i' th' hoile, why shuldn't mi faither put me i' th' hoile? It's reet to do as God does isn't it, gronny? 'Whatever wilto ax me next, lad? cried the worn-out and perplexed old woman. 'Come, shut up th' Bible, and eat thi pasty.
We were begging that she would not disturb herself, when one of the lads at the table called out, "Mother; look at eawr John. He keeps pushin' me off th' cheer!" "Eh, John," replied she; "I wish thy feyther were here! Thae'rt olez tormentin' that lad. Do let him alone, wilto or else aw'll poo that toppin' o' thine, smartly aw will! An' do see iv yo connot behave yorsels!"
I'd as soon pool a warp ony day as play a harp; but when th' Almeety skifts me fro' th' Brig Factory to heaven, mebbe I'll shap as weel at a bit o' music as ony on yo'. 'Wilto play thi music o'er sich as Amanda, thinksto? asked old Malachi. 'Thee mind thi business, Malachi. When th' Almeety maks me an angel, I'll do as th' angels do. But noan afore, noather for yo', nor Amanda Stott, nor Mr.
Margaret crossed her arms and appeared to reflect. "An' of a Saturday pay day, ye know ye'd jest say: 'Hand o'er, wilto? An' he'd hand o'er." A faint smile began to play about the lady's lips; she leaned back in her chair and looked attentively at Ted.
When wilto coom to Thornleigh Arms to have th' five shillin' paid over?" "Eh, I doubt Ted 'ud sooner ha' th' five shillin' worth," suggested one of Ted's boon companions. "I dunno," replied Ted; "I reckon I'd as soon ha' th' brass." "Ah, but thou'lt coom to Orme's for it?"
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