“On the Upperhead Row, down Outcote Bank, onto th’ Brigg, an’ then up Crosland Moor?”
“Did you and your father follow him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did he call anywhere?”
“Yes, sir. We see’d him go in to th’ Warren.”
“What did you do?”
“Me an’ mi feyther went forrard till we come to Radcliffe’s Plantation; an’ aw sez to mi feyther—”
“I’m afraid we can’t hear what you said to your father. My friend would object.”
“Oh! I don’t mind,” said sleepy-sides.
“I don’t think that man minds anything as long as he gets his nap,” I muttered to my father, vindictively, but my father didn’t seem perturbed.