“Does fowk nivver want ony stickin’ plaister nobbut when they’ve been feightin’?  Ha could aw tell but what one o’ yo’ had tummel’d onto th’ foire, or getten scalded or summat?  Thi father browt it, it wor nooan o’ me.”

“Eea, aw browt it, but—­”

“But—­Tha can hold thi noise an’ tak’ it back, for if ther’d been ony use for it tha’d ha’ been sewer to ha’ forgetten it.  But let’s see what this thing is ’at tha’s sent for us to luk at, for aw can get noa drinkin’ unless aw know what it is.”

“Well, come yo’re ways into this raam,” sed Emma, “Here it is, an’ tell me what yo’ think on it.”

“Why aw’l be shot if it isn’t a sewin’ machine!  An’ a grand en it is; but ha’ mich have yo’ to give for it?”

“Ther’s nowt to give for it, becoss it’s all paid for.  Bob’s bowt it me aght o’th’ brass he’s been savin’.”

“Then that’s whear his five shillin’ a wick has been gooin’?”

“Eea, an’ moor nor that, for he’d getten a raise of hauf a craan, an’ he nivver tell’d me, becoss he wanted to buy this for mi birthday.”

“What did aw tell thi, Emma?  Didn’t aw say ’at tha could trust Bob?  They can’t deceive me.  Aw can tell a straightforrad chap as sooin as aw see him.”

“Nah, tha sees Angelina,” sed Isaac, “Things isn’t just as black as tha thowt they wor, an’ aw tell’d thi—­”

“Tha tell’d me nowt, an’ aw dooan’t want thi to tell me owt; goa sit thi daan to thi drinkin’ an’ let thi mait stop thi maath.’”

Niver Judge by Appearances.

If yo niver heeard tell o’ that doo ’at Broddington an Clarkson once had, aw’ll tell yo abaat it; for when aw heeard on it aw lafft wol my bally wark’d, aw did forshure.  Yo mun understand at Broddington kept a butcher’s shop i’ Snicket loin an Clarkson kept a puttaty shop ith same row.  Well, it soa happen’d ’at Broddington’s shop wor too big for him, an Clarkson’s wor too little for him, soa they had a bit o’ tawk together, an after a deeal o’ bargainin, an boath swearin ’at it ud be a loss o’ monny a paand, they agreed to swap.  Broddington wor a single chap an lived bi hissen, but Clarkson had a wife an some bairns, an shoo wor a wife an noa mistak! for shoo’d tongue enuff for hauf a duzzen.  Ther wor a sign ovver each shop wi th’ name painted on, but as one wodn’t fit t’ other they agreed to swap signs as weel an to get’ em repainted, each wi thee own name.  Well, one day they set abaat flittin, an a varry hard day they had, but at last all wor comfortably arranged an nowt moor wanted dooin but names changin.

After a hard job like that, Broddington thowt he’d give hissen a bit ov a treat, an goa off on a cheap trip to Liverpool, for as it wor varry hot weather he hadn’t mich to do—­butchers niver have—­but as he lived bi hissen, an wor a varry hard sleeper, he couldn’t tell ha to manage to get up to be ready for four o’clock, an’ he didn’t like th’ idea o’ sittin up all th’ neet, coss he knew if he did ’at he’d be fit for nowt all th’ day.  After studdin abaat it a bit an idea struck him, an’ off he set to seek th’ policeman ‘at wor o’ that beat, an get him to wakken him.