“What can he have to say to Russell? He hasn’t sense enough to be on Russell’s side. Russell is an A. D. 1832 man, Antony dates back two or three hundred years.”
“He does nothing of that kind. He has been wearing a pair o’ seven leagued boots the past two weeks. Antony’s now as far forward as Russell, or Grey, or any other noncontent. They’ll find that out as soon as he opens his mouth in The House of Commons.”
“We call it ‘t’ Lower House’ here, Annie.”
“I don’t see why. As good men are in it as sit in t’ Upper House or any ither place.”
“It may be because they speak better English there than thou art speaking right now, Annie.”
Then Annie laughed. “I had forgot, Josepha,” she said, “forgive me.”
“Nay, there’s nothing to forgive, Annie. I can talk Yorkshire as well as iver I did, if I want to. After all, it’s the best and purest English going and if you want your awn way or to get your rights, or to make your servants do as they’re told, a mouthful of Yorkshire will do it—or nothing will. And I was telling Dick only the other day, to try a bit o’ Yorkshire on a little lass he is varry bad in love with—just at present.”
Katherine had been standing at her aunt’s embroidery frame admiring its exquisite work but as soon as she heard this remark, she came quickly to the fireside where the elder ladies had sat down together. They had lifted the skirts of their dresses across their knees to prevent the fire from drawing the color and put their feet comfortably on the shining fender and Katherine did not find them indisposed to talk.
“Who is it, aunt?” she asked with some excitement. “What is her name? Is she Yorkshire?”
“Nay, I doan’t think she hes any claim on Yorkshire. I think she comes Westmoreland way. She is a sister to a member of the Lower House called De Burg. He’s a handsome lad to look at. I hevn’t hed time yet to go further.”