it bi a chap 'ats had
it throo Bill hissen, but its a saycret tha knows, soa tha munnot tell
onybody; but what does ta think on it?"
"Well aw hardly know what to think, but it seems to me 'at ther'll be
noa limit to th' limited's in a bit. But what's th' shares to be, has ta
heeard?"
"Ho e'ea! Ther's to be two hundred shares at a shillin a piece; nineteen
twentieths he's baan to keep for hissen, an' his relations are to have
th' furst chonce o'th' other, so as it'll be as mich a family affair as
possible. Does ta see, that's done soa as if ivery thing doesn't work as
it should, or ther should be ony fallin off i'th' quality o'th' tripe,
they'll keep it quiet for ther own sakes."
"Well, aw cannot see what iver he's turnin it into a company consarn
for?"
"Does ta see, he's rayther fast for that stuff fowk buys pigs wi, an'
he's niver been able to pay for yon shuts painting yet, an' tha sees if
theas shares are all taen up, it'll put him into a bit o' ready brass;
an' th' dividend is to be declared once a year, an' th' shareholders can
have ther choice whether they tak it aat i' tripe or trotters; an if th'
first years' profit doesn't run to as mich as'll be a meal a piece,
it'll be carried to a presarve fund, though what presarved tripe 'll be
like aw cant tell."
"Well, tha caps me nah! Does ta think o' takkin up a share or two?"
"Aw hardly know yet. If aw tummel ovver as mich on mi way hooam as'll
pay th' deposit, aw happen shall, but net else."
"Well, they'll net be mich i' my line. Who does ta think aw met to-day?
Try to guess."
"Net aw marry! Awm noa hand at guessin."
"It wor Jim Wilkins, don'd up like a gentleman. It licks me whear he
gets his brass; if ther isn't a smash up thear some day awst be capt.
But he ows me nowt."
"Aw suppose his wife's a varry highty tighty sooart ov a body. Shoo's
been browt up at th' boardin schooil."
"Why then, shoo'll be a poor dowdy in a haase. It's a queer thing, but
eddication seems to mar as mony as it maks. Aw dooant know what Foster's
bill may do."
"Is he baan to get wed?"
"Who?"
"Bill Foster."
"Aw ne'er sed owt abaat Bill Foster, aw mean Foster, M. P. for
Bradforth. He's browt in a bill to eddicate fowks childer."
"Ho has he, aw niver heeard on it."
"Why tha'rt awfully behund hand."
"Aw may be i' mi politics, but net i' me payments, an' that's what monny
a thaasand connot say. Aw wonder sometimes ha it wod ha been if
iverybody 'at owed
|