“Eea, shoo keeps i’ varry gooid order, shoo puts her mait into a better skin nor th’ mooast; they didn’t hit it soa well at th’ furst, for shoo wor varry waspish, an’ tha knows awr Joa’s as queer as Dick’s hatband, when he’s put aght a bit.  One morning, abaght a wick after they wor wed, Joa woran’t varry weel, an’ had to ligg i’ bed a bit,—­shoo gate up to muck th’ beeas,—­(for shoo can do a job like that, tha knows, when shoo’s a mind.)”

“Eea! eea!” said Tommy, “noabody better,—­shoo’s a pair o’ gooid end,—­shoo’s nooan afeared o’ dipping her finger i’ water, nut shoo.”

“Well, aw tell thi, shoo gate up, an’ in a while shoo call’d aght ’at his porridge wor ready when he liked to come daan, an’ then shoo went aght.  Soa in a bit, he gate up, an’ th’ pan wor stood o’ th’ rib flopping away rarely.  Well, he gate a plate, an’ thowt he’d tern’ em aght to cooil, when asteead o’ porrige, aght come th’ dish claat slap on to his fooit;—­talk abaght single step doncing!—­tha should just ha seen him; he ommost lauped clean ower th’ breead flaik;—­an’ thear shoo stood grinning at him throo th’ winder, an’ he wor soa mad—­he wuthered th’ pan fair at her head;—­he miss’d his aim an’ knock’d th’ canary cage to smithereens, th’ cat gate th’ burd, an’ th’ pan fell into th’ churn.  Nah, what wod ta think ov a thing like that?”

“Waw, its just loike one ov her tricks;-tha knows shoo wor allus a trimmer o’ one, Dick.”

“Shoo wor, Tommy, an shoo allus will be to her deeing day.  It put awr Joa into a awful passhian, but shoo didn’t care a pin, shoo said shoo’d lived too long near a wood’ to be fear’d ov a hullet,—­but they’re as reight as Dick and Liddy nah.  Aw’ll tell thi ha that happens.  Tha knows, awr Joa allus thowt a deeal ov his mother, an he wanted th’ wife to do i’th’ same way; an one morning shoo’ wor neighding th’ dooaf, when Joa says, ‘Mally’, that isn’t th’ way to neighd, my mother allus ’used to do soa;’—­an’ he wor baan to show’ haa; Shoo made noa mooar to do, but lauped into th’ middle o’th’ bowl wi’ her clogs on, an’ started o’ traiding it wi’ her feet, an’ shoo says, ‘does thi mother do soa?’ After that, he let her have it mooastly to her own way, an’ they seem to get on varry weel amang it nah—­an’ if he keeps steady they’re putting it together nicely.  An’ what have yo fresh, Tommy?”

“Nay, nowt ’at means ought aw think, Dick—­but aw’d like to been pooisened t’other wick, but as luck let, aw wor noa war.”

“Pooisened!  Tommy, nay, surelee nut.”

“Yos, but aw had—­tha sees aw live at th’ Ee’Gurnard, an’ aw’d just been into th’ mistal wi’ young maister William, an’ he’d been holding th’ canel for me whol aw siled th’ milk, an’ he wor full ov his marlocks an’ bluzzed th’ canel up mi nooas an’ put it aght,—­he’s a shocker.”

“Waw, Tommy, yo wodn’t be pooisened wi’ a canel, aw’ll niver believe?”