"And it wasna her pink frock," cried Ellen; "it was her green ane."
"This is alarming," I said with concern. "But tell me, Jean, did you say anything to them?"
"Aw never said a word!"
"Not one word?"
"They cried to us that we was navvies' dochters, and Aw just said: 'Aw wud rather be a navvy's dochter than the dochter o' Annie Miller's faither onywye.'"
"They telt Jean to wash her neck," said Gladys.
Jean smiled grimly.
"Aye, but they got mair than they bargained for! I just says to them, Aw says: 'Annie Miller, gang hame and tell yer faither to redd up his farm-yaird. Aye, and tell yer mither to wash yer heid ilka week instead o' twice a year!'"
"But," I protested, "Annie gets her hair washed every Saturday night!"
"And Aw get my neck washen ilka mornin'!"