mmels hersen."

"Tha tawks like a fooil, Isaac, an' aw've tell'd thi so over an' over
agean. Tha knows shoo isn't like thee, at cries aght befoar tha'rt hurt,
but aw'l waste noa moor wind o' thee for aw'l put on mi bonnet an' shawl
an' goa up to their haase this minit, an' see if aw can't find aght
what's to do, an' try to put things into a reight shap'." Soa shoo put
on her things an' leavin' Isaac to luk after th' stew 'at wor i' th'
oven, shoo sailed off in a famous flurry to have a tawk wi' Emma. It
wor'nt monny minits walk, an' as shoo put th' speed on shoo managed to
get thear befoar her temper cooiled, an' oppenin' th' door shoo stept in
an' sed, "Nah, Emma, lass, aw've come to see ha' tha art this mornin'?"

"Aw'm first rate, mother," sed Emma, "Aw'm rare an' glad to see yo', but
what's browt yo' here this mornin'?"

"Aw know tha artn't furst rate, an' it's noa use thee tellin' me 'at tha
art, for aw've com'd here to know th' truth, an' aw'm detarmined tha
shall tell me, for aw've hardly been able to sleep a wink sin aw wor
here last neet, an' aw've been tawkin' to thi father this mornin', but
one mud just as well whistle jigs to a mile-stoop an' expect it to dance
as tawk to him an' expect to get ony sense aght on him, but aw want to
know what bother tha's been havin' wi' that felly o' thine an' what he'd
been dooin' to thi 'at made thee soa sorrowful last neet? Nah, dooan't
goa raand th' corners, but come straight to th' point. Aw've nooan been
wed all theas years but what aw know what poor wives have to put up wi'.
Has he been drinkin'?"

"Nay, mother, yo' munnot tawk like that, for aw'm sewer ther' wor nivver
a better man tied to a woman nor my Bob, an' yo' know he's a
teetotaller, soa ther's noa fear on him gooin' on th' spree."

"Aw'm nooan soa sewer abaat that, an' if he doesn't drink he varry
likely does war. Mun, aw know what men are, an' tha has it to leearn
yet. Tha'n screen him all tha can, aw know that, just same as aw have to
do thi father, but tha connot deceive me, aw've lived to' long to be
easily chaited."

"Aw dooan't want to chait yo', mother, an' aw've nought to screen Bob
for, for aw dooan't know 'at he's a fault, unless it is his thinkin' soa
mich o' me."

"A'a, poor fooilish 'child! He thinks nooan too mich o' thee, net he
marry! He doesn't think hauf enuff, or else he'd nooan goa on as he
does! Aw tak' noa noatice o' ther coaxin' an' fondlin'; it's all
mak'-believe, an' as long a