“And what had his mother to say?”
“Oh! lots. A cunning, contrary bitch, that aw sud say so! There’s no wonder Ben Walker wer’ what he wer’ wi’ a dam like yon, whinin’ an’ quotin’ th’ Scriptures, enough to mak a man turn atheist.”
“But what did she say?”
“Oh! I cannot burden mi mind wi’ all ’oo said, about it bein’ th’ Lord’s will, an’ submission to th’ ways of th’ A’mighty, reg’lar blasphemy aw call it, callin’ in religion to cover up a piece o’ as damned rascality as ever wer’ done by man. But there’s something aw munnot forget. It concerns thee, Mary.”
“Me! what can she have to say to me.”
“That’s what aw wanted to get at. But ’oo’d noan send any word bi me. She particler wanted to know if ther’ wer’ owt ’atween yo’ an’ Ben here.”
Mary flushed and tossed her head.
“The impudence o’ some folk,” she said.
“Aw axed her what business that wer’ o hers’ an’ towd her aw thowt ’oo’d best turn her thowts to prayin’ for that scamp o’ a son o’ hers. But ’oo stuck to her guns. ’Oo wants to see thee, Mary.”
“’Oo may want,” said Mary.