" "No,
no," replied my friend; "we have not called about anything of that
kind." "What, then, pray ye?" "Well, my friend, here, is almost a
stranger in Preston; and as soon as ever he smelt the baking, he
said he should like to see it, so I took the liberty of bringing him
in." "Oh, ay; come in, an' welcome. Ye're just i' time, too; for
I've bin sat at t' back to sarra (serve) t' pigs." "You're not a
native of Lancashire, Missis," said I. "Why, wheer then? come, now;
let's be knowin', as ye're so sharp." "Cumberland," said I. "Well,
now; ye're reight, sewer enough. But how did ye find it out, now?"
"Why, you said that you had been out to sarra t' pigs. A native of
Lancashire would have said 'serve' instead of 'sarra.'" "Well,
that's varra queer; for I've bin a lang time away from my awn
country. But, whereivver do ye belang to, as ye're so bowd wi' me?"
said she, smiling, and turning over a cake which was baking upon the
oven. I told her that I was born a few miles from Manchester.
"Manchester! never, sewer;" said she, resting her ladle again; "why,
I lived ever so long i' Manchester when I was young.
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