’Nay, by gow, aw dooant know.  Aw think it must meean ‘luk sharp.’’

‘Aw think it meeans tha’rt a choolter heead, that’s what aw think.’

‘Neer heed, mother; yo’ll see when aw come back.’

Soa off Joa went, full o’ faith.  When he gate aghtside, th’ mooin wor just risin, an’ th’ stars wor sparklin up i’th’ sky, an’ all wor clear an’ still.  It wor a gooid two miles to Bessy’s, an’ he’d time to think a bit; an’ he kept turnin over in his mind what his mother had sed abaght gooin cracked, an’ he began to have some daats as to whether he wor altogether square or net.  ‘A’a,’ he sed, ’aw’ve missed it this time, for aw mud ha browt her a heearin or some oonions for her supper, but it’s just like me, aw allus think o’ thease things when it’s too lat—­aw must ha been born a bit to lat; but what awm to do, or what awm to say when aw get to owd Stooansnatche’s aw connot tell.  But fortune favors th’ brave,’ an’ aw have been lucky befoor, soa aw’ll hooap to be lucky agean.’

Joa wor fast lessenin th’ distance between hissen an’ th’ haase whear owd Stooansnatch lived, an’ it worn’t long befoor he stood peepin in at th’ winder.  He couldn’t see owt, for all wor as dark as a booit inside.  He then began tryin to mak up a speech, or frame some mak ov excuse for comin, but he wor clean lick’d, for moor he tried, an’ th’ farther off he seemed to get, an he began to think ’at if he went on studdyin mich longer it ud end in him gooin back baght dooin owt, soa he screwed up his pluck an’ knocked at th’ door.  He could hear a mumblin an’ scufflin inside, an’ somdy strike a match, an’ in a bit he heeard somdy unlock two or three locks, an’ shooit five or six bolts, an’ then th’ door oppened abaght two inch, an’ a nooas ’at iverybody knew belang’d to owd Stooansnatch bobbed aght.

‘What does ta want at this time o’th’ neet?’ sed th’ owd man.

’Nay, nowt particlar; but didn’t yo give me hauf-a-craan amang that copper this mornin, think yo?  Aw shouldn’t like to wrang onybody, an’ aw did get hauf-a-craan somewhere.’

Th’ door oppened in a minit, an’ Joa went in.  He knew weel enuff ‘at th’ hauf craan didn’t belang to th’ owd sinner, but he didn’t care as he’d getten in an’ Bessy wor sittin bi th’ side o’th’ fire lukkin bonnier, he thowt nor iver.

Owd Stooansnatch wor reckonin to caant up his brass, an’ in a bit he says,—­’Tha’rt reight, Joa, lad, it’s mine; awm just hauf-a-craan short, soa tha can give it me.’

Joa hadn’t heeard a word o’ this speech, for his een wor fixed o’ Bessy. an’ his maath wor oppen as if he wor gooin to swallow her.  Bessy wor blushin, an’ seemed varry mich takken up wi’ her toa ’at had popt throo th’ end ov her slipper.

‘Does ta hear me?’ he sed sharply, ‘aw tell thi it’s mine, an’ tha mun give it me, an’ dooant stand starin thear!  Gi me that brass, an’ then tak thisen off hooam! aw connot affooard to keep a cannel burnin this rooad for nowt.’