Joa pottered it aght, an’ as shoo took’ it shoo sed, “Nah, tha sees what it is to be sharp.—­Tha’s done rarely this’ mornin.”

“Eea, aw see what it is to be sharp, an’ if ivver yo catch me sharp agean yo may call me sharp, for if aw had’nt run hooam ’fit to braik me neck aw should ha had that shillin.—­But it sarves me reight to loise it for bein i’ sich a hurry.”

He wor as gooid as his word, an’ he’s nivver been known to hurry sin.

When he gate to be a man he fancied he wor i’ love wi’ a young woman ’at lived claise to his mother’s,—­one at wor just as queer a karacter as hissen, wi this difference, shoo could haddle her own livin wi weshin.

He tell’d his mother ‘at he meant to ax her to have him somday, an’ shoo sed shoo wor feeared he’d think abaat it wol they’d be booath too old; but he did’nt, for he met her one day an’ he ax’d her if shoo’d nivver thowt o’ sich a thing?

“Nay,” shoo sed, “sich a thowt’s nivver entered mi heead, an’ if it had aw should nivver ha’ thawt o’ thee,—­but awm i’ noa hurry to get wed.”

“Noa moor am aw,” he sed, “but aw thawt awd mention it, an’ tha can tak thi own time,—­all aw want to know is, if tha’ll have me when tha’s made up thi mind?”

“Tha’d suit me weel enuff Joa, if tha’d owt to do, but aw can’t wesh to keep misen an’ have thee sittin o’ th’ harstun for a ornament, thar’t hardly gooid lukkin enuff for that;—­if tha’ll stir thisen an’ get some wark awl tawk to thi.”

Soa Joa left her to consider on it, an’ he determined to try if he could’nt find summat to do.  As he wor creepin on a chap ovvertuk him an says, “What are ta up to nah, Joa?”

“Awm seekin wark!”

“Why, if tha keeps on at that speed awm feeard tha’ll nivver find ony, for if it wur anent thi tha could’nt ovvertak it.

“Awm nooan tryin to ovvertak it,—­but tha sees if ther’s ony comin behund it’ll have a chonce o’ overtakkin me, an’ if aw wor go in faster it might think aw wor tryin to get aght o’th’ way on it:  an’ whativer fowk may say, awm net one o’ them ‘ats feeard o’ wark, for aw nivver put misen aght oth’ way to shirk owt yet.”

“Noa, nor to seek owt nawther; but aw heeard ov a job this mornin at’ll just suit thi.”

“What wor it?”

“Old Rodger wants a chap to drive his heears, an’ its just the job for thee, for th’ horse knows th’ way to th’ Cemetary, an’ tha’ll have nowt to do but sit o’th box.  Tha’d better see after it.”

“Aw think aw will sometime this afternooin,” he sed, “aw could just manage that sooart o’ wark.”

“Tha’d better goa nah if tha meeans to luk after it, or tha may be too lat,—­but gooid mornin, aw hav’nt time to stand here ony longer.”

“Aw doant know whether to believe him or net,” he sed, “for aw think he’s nooan reight in his heead, or he’d nivver ha’ spokken abaat standin’ here when we’ve been walkin’ all th’ time.  But ther can be noa harm i’ gooin to see after it, an’ if aw get it, Abergil can have noa excuse for refusin’ me.”