‘Get some moor, Tommy,’ shoo sed, ’it does me gooid to see you ait ’em, for they wor the last thing awr Jack made i’ this world, an’ aw like to see some respect paid to him.  He little thowt when he wor makkin them ‘at he’d be deead wi’ th’ small-pox an’ burrid in a wick.’  Wi’ this shoo began to cry, an’ as th’ mourners kept leavin one bi one, ther wor sooin nubdy left but Tommy to sympathise wi’ her, an’ as ivery time he sed owt shoo shoved him another black puddin on his plate, he began to think it time he went hooam, for if shoo kept on at that rate it wodn’t tak long to mak another burrin.  In a bit he wor forced to stop, an’ he sed he thowt it wor time for him to goa; but shoo put her hand on his heead an’ luk’d daan at him soa sorrowful like, as shoo lifted daan a black bottle aght o’th’ cubbord, wol he couldn’t find in his heart to leave her, soa sittin daan they had a drop o’ gin an’ watter together, for shoo wanted some to draand her sorrow, an he wanted summat to settle his stummack.  Then he began lukkin raand, an’ he wor capt to find what a nice comfortable haase shoo had, an’ all th’ furniture as gooid as new; and ivery glass he tuk he fancied shoo wor better lukkin nor he’d seen her befoor, an’ as he didn’t offer to leave as long as th’ gin lasted, bi th’time it wor done he thowt he’d niver seen a widder ’at suited him as weel, an’ as he wanted a wife he couldn’t help thinkin ’at he mud do wor nor try to find room thear to hing his hat up.

He knew at shoo wor varry nicely off an’ could affoord to live withaat th’ sausage shop, an’ although shoo wor big enuff to mak two sich chaps as him, he didn’t think that wor onny objection.

He niver knew exactly ha he gate hooam that neet, but he went to bed an’ dreamt ‘at he wor riding in a hearse to get wed to th’ widder, an’ th’ trees on booath sides o’th’ road wor hung wi’ garlands o’ black pudding.

Two months had passed, an’ Tommy hadn’t let his sympathy stop wi’ th’ funeral, but used to call regularly once a wick to see her, an’ allus went to the same chapel ov a Sunday, an’ tuk care to dress all i’ black, an’ had a black band raand his hat, which coom in varry weel to cover up th’ grease spots; an’ one neet as they wor gooin hooam together, he screwed up his courage an’ ax’d her if shoo didn’t think, as shoo wor soa lonely, an’ he wor lonely too ’at they’d better join?

‘Tha’rt to lat,’ shoo sed, ‘for aw joined long sin, an’ wor made a member directly after aw burrid awr poor Jack.’

‘But that isn’t what aw mean,’ sed Tommy, ’aw mean, hadn’t we better join an’ get wed, for awm sure we could get on varry nicely together.’

‘Well, aw think we can get on varry nicely separate,’ shoo sed, ’but anyway, if iver aw do get wed agean it’ll have to be a member o’th’ chapel; for awr Jack, deead an’ gooan as he is, an’ ther wor niver a better chap teed to a woman nor he wor, yet he had his faults, an’ he knew a deeal moor abaat sausages an’ puddins nor he knew abaat sarmons an’ prayers, an’ he’d rayther ha gooan to a dog feight nor a deacons’ meetin ony day, an’ as he left me varry nicely provided for, though aw’ve nubdy to thank for that but misen, aw can affoord to wait wol aw get suited.’