_A DIALOGUE._
_Farmer Bennet.--_ Jan! why dwon't ye right my shoes?
_Jan Lide.--_ Bin, maëster 'tis zaw cawld, I can't work wi'
tha tacker at âll; I've a brawk it ten times I'm shower ta dâ--
da vreaze za hord. Why Hester hanged out a kittle-smock ta drowy,
an in dree minits a war a vraur as stiff as a pawker; an I can't
avoord ta keep a good vier--I wish I cood--I'd zoon right your
shoes and withers too--I'd zoon yarn [Footnote: Earn.] zum money,
I warnt ye. Can't ye vine zum work vor me, maester, theäze hord
times--I'll do any theng ta sar a penny.--I can drash--I can
cleave brans--I can make spars--I can thatchy--I can shear ditch,
an I can gripy too, bit da vreaze za hord. I can wimmy--I can
messy or milky nif ther be need o't. I ood'n mine dreavin plough
or any theng.
_Farmer Bennet.--_ I've a got nothing vor ye ta do, Jan; bit
Mister Boord banchond ta I jist now that thâ war gwain ta wimmy,
ond that thâ wanted zumbody ta help 'em.
_Jan Lide._--Aw, I'm glad o't, I'll him auver an zee where I
can't help 'em; bit I han't a bin athin tha drashel o' Maester
Boord's door vor a longful time, bin I thawt that missis did'n use
Hester well; but I dwon't bear malice, an zaw I'll goo.
_Farmer Bennet._--What did Missis Boord zâ or do ta Hester,
than?
_Jan Lide._--Why, Hester, a mâ-be, war zummet ta blame too:
vor she war one o'm, d'ye zee, that rawd Skimmerton--thic mâ game
that frunted zum o' tha gennel-vawk. Thâ zed 'twar time to a done
wi'jitch litter, or jitch stuff, or I dwon knaw what thâ call'd
it; bit thâ war a frunted wi' Hester about it: an I zed nif thâ
war a frunted wi' Hester, thâ mid be frunted wi' I. This zet
missis's back up, an Hester han't a bin a choorin there zunz. Bit
'tis niver-the-near ta bear malice; and zaw I'll goo auver an zee
which wâ tha wine da blaw.