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Updated: May 20, 2025
'Hoo thinks hersel' aboon porritch, does yon lot. 'Dun yo' think hoo can mak' porritch? sneered Amos to the woman who passed the unkindly remark. 'Nowe, Amos, aw durnd. Yon lass'll cost Penrose some brass. Yo'll see if hoo doesnd. While this criticism was going on in the chapel yard, Mrs. Penrose was seated in the pew of Dr. Hale, somewhat bewildered and not a little overstrained.
Robson stamped his snow-laden feet and shook himself well, still standing on the mat, and letting a cold frosty current of fresh air into the great warm kitchen. He laughed at them all before he spoke. 'It's a coud new year as I'm lettin' in though it's noan t' new year yet. Yo'll a' be snowed up, as sure as my name s Dannel, if yo' stop for twel' o'clock. Yo'd better mak' haste and go whoam.
'I'll let yo' go into t' warm kitchen if yo'll tell me if yo' think I can ever forget yo' again. She looked up at him defiantly, and set her red lips firm. He enjoyed her determination not to reply to this question; it showed she felt its significance. Her pure eyes looked steadily into his; nor was the expression in his such as to daunt her or make her afraid.
But sin' those days a ha' been o'er busy to tell stories to my wife, an' as a'll warrant she's forgotten it; an' as Sylvia here niver heerd it, if yo'll fill your glass, Kinraid, yo' shall ha' t' benefit o't. 'A were a specksioneer mysel, though, after that, a rayther directed my talents int' t' smuggling branch o' my profession; but a were once a whaling aboord t' Ainwell of Whitby.
"Good land ob massy!" exclaimed Sam, as he looked down to see the dog half way between his bow legs, Snap's head sticking out one way, and his wagging tail the other. "Get out ob dat, Snap!" cried Sam. "Get out! Move on, sah!" "Bow wow!" barked Snap, which might have meant almost anything. "Look out!" shouted Sam. "Yo'll upset me! Dat's what you will!"
And then he exclaimed, "Don't yo' believe these words? Ah, 'tis nowt unless yo' believe; you might be eating th' dumplins and smackin' your lips on th' apples, but if you doan't believe, yo'll say it's a dream. Wake up, and believe naa, and you'll foind your maath is full of good things."
So she went over to her awkward dairymaid, and before she but not before he was aware of the sweet proximity, she was adjusting his happy awkward arms to the new office of holding a milk-strainer over the bowl, and pouring the white liquid through it. 'There! said she, looking up for a moment, and half blushing; 'now yo'll know how to do it next time.
'And Measter Hall makes a good offer, for t' man as is going to come in will take t' stock and a' t' implements; and if mother if we if I like, th' furniture and a' 'Furniture! said Kester, in grim surprise. 'What's to come o' t' missus and thee, that yo'll not need a bed to lie on, or a pot to boil yo'r vittel in? Sylvia reddened, but kept silence. 'Cannot yo' speak?
'Well, sir, this strike has been a weary piece o' business to me; and yo'll not wonder if I'm a bit put out wi' seeing it fail, just for a few men who would na suffer in silence, and hou'd out, brave and firm. 'You forget! said Margaret. 'I don't know much of Boucher; but the only time I saw him it was not his own sufferings he spoke of, but those of his sick wife his little children.
"I doot but yo'll be too drunk to see owt except, 'appen, your bottle," the boy shouted back; and swaggered down the hill. At Kenmuir that night the marked and particular kindness of Elizabeth Moore was too much for the overstrung lad. Overcome by the contrast of her sweet motherliness, he burst into a storm of invective against his father, his home, his life everything.
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