“What ninepence?—­Does ta expect a chap to goa trailin abaat th’ taan for a hawf a day buyin glass an stuff, an nivver spendin nowt.  These winders ud cost thi a shillin a piece if onny body else put em in, but aw willn’t be hard on thi,—­gie me another sixpence an aw’ll finish th’ job.”

“Aw wish tha’d nivver started it.  But this is th’ last penny tha’ll get aght o’ me, soa tha knows!  Aw nivver saw nubdy frame war i’ mi life!  Why, if awd gien awr Hepsabah’s Jerrymier th’ job he’d ha done it better nor that.”

“Wod he?—­Well, suppooas tha does give him th’ job!  Aw’ll tell thi what it is.—­Aw’ve just studden this sooart o’ thing as long as awm gooin to.—­Ther’s awr Hepsabah an her Jerrymiar, an thee, ’at know ivverything an can do ivverything,—­an aw know nowt an can do nowt, an awm treeated war nor nowt, an soa yo can just tak them winders an stick em up as they are, or mend em, or do what the daggers yo like wi em, but aw tell thi this, once for all,—­’at as long as ivver thy name’s Mally, tha’ll nivver catch me slavin an plannin as aw have done for thee an thine.  If tha’d nivver ha interfered, them winders ud ha been in, but tha’ll nawther put em in thisen nor let me do it—­soa awm gooin aght.”

“Gooid shutness!  Th’ longer he lives an th’ war he gets.”

A Bashful Bradfordian.

One wod hardly expect to find a bashful young chap in a Bradforth printin office.  But ther is one; but aght o’ consideration for his tender feelins aw willn’t tell his real name, but call him James Fearnly.  If yo’re varry anxious to find aght who it really is, this is th’ way to do it.  When yo’ve a bit o’ spare time, if yo connot manage to get ’em all together at once, tak ’em one bi one, as yo can catch ’em, an read this stooary to em.  Th’ furst one ’at blushes, yo may safely tak to be him.

James fell i’ love wi a young woman ’at lived up Manningham loin, an its allus been suppooased, bi them ’at know ’em, ‘at shoo must ha fell i’ love wi him at th’ same time, or sooiner; but hasumivver, to th’ surprise o’ ivverybody ’at knew James, they gate wed.  Ha they spent ther honeymooin aw cannot tell, an aw wodn’t if aw could, but after a bit they gate nicely sattled in a little haase on Thornton Road.

Angelina was his wife’s name, but he cut it short an called her Angel, which he varry likely thowt shoo wor.  But if he wor bashful, shoo worn’t.  Shoo’d a bonny face, an a shape ’at made ivvery old chap ’at saw her wish he wor young ageean; an when owt tickled her shoo laft like a locomotive whistle in a fit; an as for bein bashful,—­why—­shoo didn’t know what it meant.

Shoo’d a sister,—­A’a! but shoo wor a grand en!  To tell the trewth, James had fallen i’ love wi her furst, but he wor too bashful to tell her soa, an he’d nivver ha had pluck to pop th’ question to Angelina if it hadn’t been ‘at they wor lost at th’ back o’th Taan Hall, an he had to borrow a lantern to prevent ’em runnin agean lamppooasts.