they’re for sellin th’ organ at Manchester owd church,—­so as they can ha’ one like this.’  ‘Thou never says!’ said Betty.  ‘Yigh,’ said Robin, ’it’s true, what I’m telling yo.  But aw mun be off, Betty.  Aw ‘ve to go to th’ Hollins to-neet, yet.’  ’Why, arto takin’ thame summat?’ ’Aye; some mak of a new fangle’t machine, for weshin’ shirts an’ things.’  ‘Nay, sure!’ said Betty.  ’A’ll tell tho what, Robert; they ‘re goin’ on at a great rate up at tat shop.”  ’Aye, aye,’ said Robin.  ’Mon, there’s no end to some folk’s pride,—­till they come’n to th’ floor; an’ then there isn’t, sometimes.’  ’There isn’t, Robert; there isn’t.  An’ I’ll tell tho what; thoose lasses o’ theirs,—­they’re as proud as Lucifer.  They’re donned more like mountebanks’ foos, nor gradely folk,—­wi’ their fither’t hats, an’ their fleawnces, an’ their hoops, an’ things.  Aw wonder how they can for shame’ o’ their face.  A lot o’ mee-mawing snickets!  But they ’re no better nor porritch, Robert, when they’re looked up.’  ’Not a bit, Betty,—­not a bit!  But I mun be off.  Good neet to yo’.’  ’Good neet Robert,’ said Betty.  An’ away he went wi’ th’ cart up to th’ Hollins.”

“Aw’ll tell tho what, Skedlock,” said Nanny; “that woman’s a terrible tung!”

“Aye, hoo has,” replied Skedlock; “an’ her mother wur th’ same.  But, let me finish my tale, Nanny, an’ then—­”

“Well, it wur pitch dark when Robin geet to th’ Hollins farm-yard wi’ his cart.  He gav a ran-tan at th’ back dur, wi’ his whip-hondle; and when th’ little lass coom with a candle, he said, ’Aw’ve getten a weshin’-machine for yo.’  As soon as th’ little lass yerd that, hoo darted off, tellin’ o’ th’ house that th’ new weshin’-machine wur come’d.  Well, yo known, they’n five daughters; an’ very cliver, honsome, tidy lasses they are, too,—­as what owd Betty says.  An’ this news brought ’em o’ out o’ their nooks in a fluster.  Owd Isaac wur sit i’th parlour, havin’ a glass wi’ a chap that he’d bin sellin’ a cowt to.  Th’ little lass went bouncin’ into th’ reawm to him; an’ hoo said, ’Eh, father, th’ new weshin’-machine’s come’d!’ ‘Well, well,’ said Isaac, pattin’ her o’th yed; ‘go thi ways an’ tell thi mother.  Aw’m no wesher.  Thae never sees me weshin’, doesto?  I bought it for yo lasses; an’ yo mun look after it yorsels.  Tell some o’th men to get it into th’ wesh-house.’  So they had it carried into th’ wesh-house; an’ when they geet it unpacked they were quite astonished to see a grand shinin’ thing, made o’ rose-wood, an’ cover’t wi’ glitterin’ kerly-berlys.  Th’ little lass clapped her hands, an’ said, ‘Eh, isn’t it a beauty!’ But th’ owd’st daughter looked hard at it, an’ hoo said, ‘Well, this is th’ strangest weshin’-machine that I ever saw!’ ‘Fetch a bucket o’ water,’ said another, ‘an’ let’s try it!’ But they couldn’t get it oppen, whatever they did; till, at last, they fund some keys, lapt in a piece of breawn papper.  ‘Here they are,’ said Mary.  Mary’s th’ owd’st daughter, yo known.  ‘Here they are;’