“Is that soa, Sammywell?”

“Eah, this is my own hat.”

“Why, then, its what aw’ve tell’d thi monny a time,—­its thee at doesn’t know ha to put it on.  Th’ hat ails nowt if ther wor some sense i’th heead.  Tha couldn’t have a better.  Its a blessin aw coomed wi thi or else tha’d just ha thrown ten shillin away.  Awm varry mich obliged to yo, young man, for all th’ trubble yo’ve takken to suit him, an aw hardly like to goa aght withaat buyin summat.  Yo happen dooant have onny pooastage stamps?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then yo can let me have threehaupoth.”

“Certainly shall I send them?”

“Nay, awm nooan to praad to hug mi own bundles.  Gooid afternooin.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Grimes, glad to serve you at any time.”

“He’s a varry civil chap is yond.  Be sewer Sammywell tha allus gooas to his shop when tha wants a pooastage stamp.”

Sammywell Sweeps th’ Chimley.

“Tha’rt booan idle, Sammywell, that’s what’s th’ matter wi’ thee!”

“Mally, tha knows tha doesn’t spaik trewth when tha says sich a thing; for aw havn’t a lazy booan i’ mi skin an nivver had!  Aw’ll admit ther are times when aw should be thankful for a bit ov a rest, but ther’s no rest whear tha art, tha taks care o’ that.”

“Rest!  It’ll be time enuff to tawk abaat rest when tha’s done summat!  Th’ hardest wark tha ivver does is aitin an drinkin, an tha does’nt hawf chew thi mait as tha should.  When do aw get onny rest?  Con ta tell me that?”

“Nay, aw connot.  Aw wish aw could; but tha knows ’ther’s noa rest for the wicked,’ soa what can ta expect.”

“Dooant let me hev onny o’ thy back-handed tawk or aw’ll let thee see whear th’ wickedness comes in!  Are ta baan to goa an see after a Sweep to come to this chimley, or are we to be smoored an have all th’ bits o’ furnitur ruinated?”

“Aw’ll fotch thee hawf-a-duzzen sweeps if tha wants em, but why the dickens could’nt ta say what tha wanted asteead o’ startin blaghardin me?”

“Aw dooant want hawf-a-duzzen sweeps;—­one’ll be enuff for what ther is to do, an aw shouldn’t want one at all if awd a felly ’at wor worth his salt, but tha can do nowt.  Whativver sich shiftless fowk wor created for licks me!”

“Why tha doesn’t think ivverybody should be born sweeps, does ta?”

“Noa, ther’s noa need for that.  But when a chap isn’t clivver enuff to be a sweep, he owt still to have sense enuff to luk for one when ther’s one wanted.  But aw know one thing, an that is, aw’ll put on mi things, an set off an leeav thi to it, an tha can awther sweep it, or get it swept, or caar ith’ haase wol tha gets sufficated, soa tha knows!”

An wi that, Mally went upstairs to get don’d, leavin Sammywell to mak th’ best he could on it.  In a varry few minnits, shoo wor daan agean, an flingin a shillin on th’ table shoo sed, “Thear’s th’ brass to pay th’ sweep if tha gets one, and be sewer to tell him net to mak onny moor muck nor he can help, an aw’ll cleean an fettle all up ith’ mornin; an if tha wants owt to ait, tha knows whear it is, an as for owt to sup, tha’rt better baght, an tha knows tha spends sadly to mich,” an away shoo went.