“’Deed, an ey’m nah varry weel,” replied the little girl, “boh ey knoa who ey han to thonk fo’ my ailment.”

“Your sister, most probably,” suggested the attorney.  “It must be very vexatious to see her so much noticed, and be yourself so much neglected—­very vexatious, indeed—­I quite feel for you.”

“By dunna want your feelin’,” replied Jennet, nettled by the remark; “boh it wasna my sister os made me ill.”

“Who was it then, my little dear,” said Potts.

“Dunna ‘dear’ me,” retorted Jennet; “yo’re too ceevil by half, os the lamb said to the wolf.  Boh sin ye mun knoa, it wur Mistress Nutter.”

“Aha! very good—­I mean—­very bad,” cried Potts.  “What did Mistress Nutter do to you, my little dear?  Don’t be afraid of telling me.  If I can do any thing for you I shall be very happy.  Speak out—­and don’t be afraid.”

“Nay fo’ shure, ey’m nah afeerd,” returned Jennet.  “Boh whot mays ye so inqueesitive?  Ye want to get summat out’n me, ey con see that plain enough, an os ye stand there glenting at me wi’ your sly little een, ye look loike an owd fox ready to snap up a chicken o’ th’ furst opportunity.”

“Your comparison is not very flattering, Jennet,” replied Potts; “but I pass it by for the sake of its cleverness.  You are a sharp child, Jennet—­a very sharp child.  I remarked that from the first moment I saw you.  But in regard to Mistress Nutter, she seems a very nice lady—­and must be a very kind lady, since she has made up her mind to adopt your sister.  Not that I am surprised at her determination, for really Alizon is so superior—­so unlike—­”

“Me, ye wad say,” interrupted Jennet.  “Dunna be efeerd to speak out, sir.”

“No, no,” replied Potts, “on the contrary, there’s a very great likeness between you.  I saw you were sisters at once.  I don’t know which is the cleverest or prettiest—­but perhaps you are the sharpest.  Yes, you are the sharpest, undoubtedly, Jennet.  If I wished to adopt any one, which unfortunately I’m not in a condition to do, having only bachelor’s chambers in Chancery Lane, it should be you.  But I can put you in a way of making your fortune, Jennet, and that’s the next best thing to adopting you.  Indeed, it’s much better in my case.”

“May my fortune!” cried the little girl, pricking up her ears, “ey should loike to knoa how ye wad contrive that.”

“I’ll show you how directly, Jennet,” returned Potts.  “Pay particular attention to what I say, and think it over carefully, when you are by yourself.  You are quite aware that there is a great talk about witches in these parts; and, I may speak it without offence to you, your own family come under the charge.  There is your grandmother Demdike, for instance, a notorious witch—­your mother, Dame Device, suspected—­your brother James suspected.”

“Weel, sir,” cried Jennet, eyeing him sharply, “what does all this suspicion tend to?”

“You shall hear, my little dear,” returned Potts.  “It would not surprise me, if every one of your family, including yourself, should be arrested, shut up in Lancaster Castle, and burnt for witches!”