"
"Aat o' my rooad!" sed Jim, "let me goa in If aw dooant pitch him aat
a' that winder, neck an' crop, my name isn't Jim." Up stairs he
flew. "Nah then, whear is he? whear is he?" he haw'led, an' seized
hold o' th' pooaker.
"Aa, Jim," shoo sed, "Tha wodn't hurt th' child surelee?" an' shoo
held up a bonny little lad abaat two days old, 'at stared at him as
gaumless as gaumless could be, an' 'at had his father's nooas an'
chin to nowt.
"By gingo, aw'm done this time!" said Jim, as he tuk it in his arms
an' kust it. "Aa, what a fooil aw've been! tha'll forgie me, lass,
weant ta?"
"Sure aw will, Jim," shoo sed. An' after that they lived happily
together, as all dacent fowk should.
Winter.
Winter's comin'! Top coits an' nickerbockers begin to be sowt up. A
chap enjoys his bed a bit better, an' doesn't like gettin' up in a
mornin' quite as weel. Tawkin' abaat enjoyin' bed makes me think ova
young chap aat o' Midgley at' gate wed an' browt his wife to Halifax
to buy a bed, an' nowt wod suit her but a shut-up en, like her father
an' mother had allus had: an' they wor't long befoor they fun a
second-hand en, 'at they gate cheap, an' as they knew a chap 'at coam
wi' a milk cart throo near whear they lived, they gate him to tak it
hooam for 'em, an' it worn't long befoor th' beddin' an' all wor
nicely arranged, an' they war snoozelin' under th' blankets.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86