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Updated: August 2, 2024
I has a frind wots a h-uncle that's ill: can you spare her, Bill, to attind him? That I can, says I; 'anything to obleedge. So Peg packs off, bag and baggidge." "And what was the sick gentleman's name?" asked Mr. R 's companion. "It was one Mr. Warney, a painter, wot lived at Clap'am. Since thin I've lost sight of Peg; for we had 'igh words about the childern, and she was a spiteful 'oman.
I has a frind wots a h- uncle that's ill: can you spare her, Bill, to attind him? That I can, says I; 'anything to obleedge. So Peg packs off, bag and baggidge." "And what was the sick gentleman's name?" asked Mr. R 's companion. "It was one Mr. Warney, a painter, wot lived at Clap'am. Since thin I've lost sight of Peg; for we had 'igh words about the childern, and she was a spiteful 'oman.
Does you know, missie, that he's arsked me to go down to Clap'am presently to 'elp wait on your ma? If you're there, miss, it'll be the 'eight of 'appiness to me." "I may as well say at once, Matilda, that I shall not be there." "You don't like 'im, then?" said Tildy, backing a step. "And 'e is so enticin' the prettiest ways 'e 'ave at least, that's wot me and Mrs. Ross thinks.
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