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"There, you have ruined my hopes, you little wretch!" cried Potts, furiously. "Ey'm reet glad on't," said Jennet. "Yo may tay me to Lonkester Castle, boh yo conna hong me. Ey knoa that fu' weel. Ey shan get out, and then look to yersel, lad; for, os sure os ey'm Mother Demdike's grandowter, ey'n plague the life out o' ye."
Ey am Jem Device, an this is my mother, Elizabeth. Boh a warse offender than either on us stonds afore yo. This woman is Nance Redferne, grandowter of the owd hag, Mother Chattox. Ey charge her wi' makin' wax images, an' stickin' pins in 'em, wi' intent to kill folk.
"Is she neaw comely? ay, comelier far than fat, fubsy Sukey here or than Nancy Holt, wi' her yallo hure an frecklet feace an yet ye ca' her a witch." "Ey ca' thee one, theaw feaw little whean an the dowter an grandowter o' one an that's more," cried Nancy. "Freckles i' your own feace, ye mismannert minx."
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