. . . Martha an' me's walked
aboon ten mile iv we'n walked a yard; an' we geet weet through th'
first thing; an' aw wur ill when we set off, an' so wur Martha, too;
aw know hoo wur, though hoo says nought. Well; we coom back through
t' teawn; an' we were both on us fair stagged up. Aw never were so
done o'er i' my life, wi' one thing an' another. So we co'de a-
seein' Ann here; an' hoo made us a rare good baggin'--th' lass did.
See yo; aw wur fit to drop o'th flags afore aw geet that saup o'
warm tay into mo--aw wur for sure! An' neaw, hoo's come'd a gate wi'
us hitherto, an' hoo would have us to have a glass o' warm ale a-
piece at yon heawse lower deawn a bit; an' aw dar say it'll do mo
good, aw getten sich a cowd; but, eh dear, it's made mo as mazy as a
tup; an' neaw, hoo wants us to have another afore we starten off
whoam. But it's no use; we mun' be gooin' on. Aw'm noan used to it,
an' aw connot ston it. Aw'm as wake as a kittlin' this minute."
Ann, who had befriended them in this manner, was the handsome young
woman who seemed to be in work; and now, the poor woman who had been
telling the story, laid her hand upon her friend's shoulder and
said, "Ann, thae's behaved very weel to us o' roads; an' neaw, lass,
go thi ways whoam, an' dunnut fret abeawt us, mon.
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