he sed, 'doctor, con yo keep a saycret?'

Th' doctor wor soa capt wol he ommost fell into th' assnuck, an' withaat
waitin for him to spaik, Joa sed, 'yo see aw've had a nasty knock, an aw
mean to mak owd Stooansnatch pay for it.'

'Certainly! Quite proper! Sue him for L100 damages. I'll attend as a
witness.'

'But that isn't th' way aw want to mak him pay for it. Aw dooan't want
his brass, aw want his dowter, an' it's becoss aw axed him for her 'at
he crack'd mi heead. Nah, if yo can nobbut mak him believe 'at this is a
varry bad case, an' freeten him wi' makkin him believe 'at aw shall
niver get better, aw think we can manage it.'

'Capital! capital!' sed th' doctor, rubbin his hands wi' glee (for he
wor noa fonder o' Stooansnatch nor th' rest o' fowk) 'th' very thing!
You can depend on me. Ah! here he comes.'

Joa shut his een, an th' doctor lained ovver him as if he wor examinin
his heead, an' Bessy stood wi' her apron up to her face as if shoo wor
cryin, but shoo wor laughin fit to split, for shoo could enjoy a joke at
th' owd man's expense as weel as onybody.

Owd Stooansnatch coom in traidin of his tip tooas, holdin a roll o'
plaister i' one hand an' sixpenoth o' brandy i'th' tother.

Th' doctor luk'd at him an' pool'd a long face an' sed, 'I'm afraid its
of no use, Mr. Stooansnatch; this is a bad case, and had better be taken
to the hospital.'

'Will it be cheaper to have him thear nor at home?' sed Stooansnatch.

'That I can't tell, but I shall be compelled to give you into custody.
Murder is a sad thing, Mr. Stooansnatch--a terrible thing, sir; and the
hanging of an old man is an awful thing to contemplate.'

'Murder? hanging? Aw didn't do it! They'll niver hang me for it, will
they? A'a dear, what'll come o' Bessy an' all my bit o' brass? Keep him
here, doctor, an' try to cure him; aw dooant care if it costs a paand,'
an th' old man trembled wol he had to steady hissen agean th' bed
pooast.

Joa had kept quiet as long as he could, an for fear o' spoilin it all
wi' laffin, he set up a groan laad enuff to wakken a deead en.

'Poor fellow,' sed th' doctor, givin him a drop o' brandy, 'that's a
fearful groan.' He then cut a lot o' hair, an' put on abaat six inch
square o' plaister, an' leavin him, went into th' next room wi' owd
Stooansnatch, leavin Bessy an' Joa together, an' yo may bet Joa made
gooid use of his time, for he'd begun his cooartin i' hard earnest, an'
he meant to goa throo wi' it. Wha