BOBBY BANKS’ BODDERMENT.
(A Sup of Coald Keàl het up ageàn.)
HE was ola’s a top marketer was ooar Betty, she niver miss’t gittin’ t’ best price gā’n beàth for butter an’ eggs; an’ she ken’t hoo to bring t’ ho’pennies heàm! Nūt like t’ meàst o’ fellows’ wives ’at thinks there’s nèa hūrt i’ warin’ t’ odd brass iv a pictur’ beuk or gūd stūff for t’ barnes or m’appen sūm’at whyte as needless for ther’sels,—Betty ola’s brong t’ ho’pennies heàm.
Cockerm’uth’s ooar reg’lar market—it’s a gay bit t’ bainer—but at t’ time o’ year when Kes’ick’s full o’ quality ther’s better prices to be gitten theear; an’ sooa o’ through t’ harvest time, an’ leater on, she ola’s went to Kes’ick. Last back-end, hooiver, Betty was fashed sadly wid t’ rheumatics iv her back, an’ yā week she cūd hardly git aboot at o’, let alean gā to t’ market. For a while she wadn’t mak’ ūp her mind whedder to send me iv her spot, or ooar eldest dowter, Faith; but as Faith was hardly fowerteen—stiddy aneuf of her yeàge, but rayder yūng,—Betty thowte she’d better keep Faith at heàm an’ let me tak’ t’ marketin’ to Kes’ick.
Of t’ Setterda’ mwornin’, when it com’, she hed us o’ ūp an’ stūrrin, seùner nor sūm on us liket; an’ when I’d gitten sūm’at to eat, iv a hūgger mūgger mak’ of a way, says Betty till me, says she—“Here’s six an’ twenty pūnd o’ butter,” says she. “If thoo was gud for owte thoo wad git a shilling a pūnd for’t, ivery slake. Here’s five dozen of eggs,” says she, “I wadn’t give a skell o’ them mair nor ten for sixpence,” says she, “but thoo mun git what thoo can,” says she, “efter thu’s fūnd oot what ūdder fwoke’s axin. When thu’s meàd thy market,” says Betty, “thu’ll gā to t’ draper’s an’ git me a yard o’ check for a brat, a knot o’ tape for strings tūl’t, an’ a hank o’ threed to sowe’t wid—if I’s gud for nowte else, I can sowe yit,” says she, wid a gurn; “than thoo mūn git hoaf a pūnd o’ tea an’ a quarter of a steàn o’ sugger—they ken my price at Crosstet’s—an’ hoaf a steàn o’ soat, an’ a pūnd o’ seàp, an’ hoaf a pūnd o’ starch, an’ a penn’orth o’ steàn-blue, an’ git me a bottle o’ that stùff to rūb my back wid; an’ than thoo ma’ git two oonces o’ ’bacca for thysel’.
If thoo leùks hoaf as sharp as thoo sūd leùk thu’ll be through wid beàth thy marketin’ an’ thy shoppin’ by twelve o’clock; an’ thoo ma’ gā an’ git a bit o’ dinner, like ūdder fwoke, at Mistress Boo’s, an’ a pint o’ yall. Efter that t’ seùner thoo starts for heàm an’ t’ better. Noo thu’ll mind an’ forgit nowte? Ther’ t’ check, an’ t’ tape, an’ t’ threed, that’s three things—t’ tea, an’ t’ sugger, an’ t’ soat, an’ t’ seàp, an’ t’ starch, an’ t’ steàn-blue, an’ t’ rūbbin’ stūff, an’ t’ ’bacca—I’s up-ho’d the’ nūt to forgit that!—elebben. Ten things for me, an’ yan for thysel’! I think I’ve meàd o’ plain aneùf; an’ noo, if thoo misses owte I’ll say thoo’s a bigger clot-heid nor I’ve teàn the’ for—an’ that ’ill be sayin’ nèa lal!”
Many a fellow wad tak t’ ’frunts if his wife spak till him i’ that way—but bliss yè I leev’t lang aneùf wid Betty to know ’at it’s no’but a way she hes o’ shewin’ her likin’. When she wants to be t’ kindest an’ best to yan, yan’s ola’s suer to git t’ warst wūrd iv her belly.
Well, I set off i’ gŭd fettle for Kes’ick, gat theear i’ gradely time, an’ pot ūp at Mistress Boo’s. I hed a sharpish market, an’ seùn gat shot o’ my būtter an’ eggs at better prices nor Betty toak’t on. I bowte o’ t’ things at she wantit, an’ t’ ’bacca for mysel’, an’ gat a gud dinner at Mistress Boo’s, an’ a pint o’ yall an’ a crack.