in on him, an' he gate up intendin
to goa to his wark, but when he saw hissen ith' seamin glass, he
couldn't fashion, an' soa he began o' weshin hissen first i' cold watter
an' then i' hot; but it wor what they call a fast color, an' he couldn't
get it to stir do what he wod.

"What mun aw do, Margit?" he sed, when he'd swill'd his heead wi' hot
watter wol it wor hauf boiled; "th' moor aw wesh it an' th' breeter it
seems to get. If iver aw get all reight agean ther's somdy'll want a new
suit o' clooas, but it'll be a wooden en."

"Hold thi noise, lumpheead," shoo sed, "an' get thi braikfast an awl see
if aw connot do summat for thi. Aw expect it'll have to be scaar'd off."

Soa after th' braikfast shoo made him ligg daan o' th' hearthstooan, an'
shoo gate some wire scale an' started o' scrubbin one side ov his head,
as if shoo'd been polishin th' fender; but he couldn't stand that, an'
he laup'd up, an' donced up an' daan th' hoil, sayin all sooarts o'
awkward things.

"What the dickens are ta thinkin on," he sed, "does ta fancy awm made o'
cast-iron?"

"Aw dooan't know what tha'rt made on, but aw know tha artn't made o'th'
reight sooart o' stuff for a fayther ov a family to be made on; but if
tha connot get it off thisen, an' tha weant let me, tha'll be forced to
stop as tha art, that's all." An' away shoo flew aat o' th' haase and
left him.

"Nay fer sewer! An' whativer did he do?"

Well, he set daan and studied a bit, then he sent for a doctor, net
becoss he felt poorly, but becoss he wanted to know what to do to get it
off. Soa th' doctor coom, an' they say he couldn't spaik for iver soa
long, for laffin at him; an' he tell'd him he'd be monny a week befoor
he gate reight, an' it wod have to wear off by degrees; but his hair, he
sed, wod niver be reight, soa he mud as weel have it shaved off sooin as
lat. Soa he sent for Timmy, th' barber, an' had it done, an' when his
wife coom back, thear he wor set, lukkin for all th' world like a lot o'
old clooas wi' a ball o' red seealin wax stuck at th' top; an' thear he
is i'th' haase nah, whear he'll ha to stop wol his hair grows agean.

"Nay fer sewer! An does he niver goa aat?"

"Niver,--he did goa to th' door one day when Hiram's little lass went to
borrow th' looaf tins, but shoo wor soa freetened, wol shoo ran hooam,
an' her mother says shoo believes shoo's gooin to have soor een; mun,
he's flaysome to luk at, an' th' child has niver been like hersen sin,
an