“Tha’s getten it. Aw did think o’ a cat. But, yo’ see, yo’ cannot eit cats, nor kitlings nother, though they do say ’at there’s a chap i’ Huthersfelt, at sells pork-pies ’at gets through a seet o’ cats i’ a varry mysterious fashion. But aw couldn’t eit em missen, not knowingly. Though, to be sewer, if a Frenchman can eit a frog, aw dunnot see but what a felly might stomach a nice weel-fed kitling. But aw nivver han”
“So you kept hares?”
“Aye them two owd does theer be two o’ my rearin’, an’ sorry aw were to part wi’ ’em, but when it come to a matter o’ confoundin’ the ways o’ the unrighteous, an’ partickler when little Ruth yonder med a point on it, an’ after aw’d takken it to the Lord i’ prayer, an’ when Mr. Holmes gay’ me hawf-a-craan apiece for ’em, which were more nor aw cud reasonably expec’ for owd uns awmost past breedin’, aw seemed to see the pointin’ hand o’ Providence, an’ so theer they be.”
“And how do you know they are the same couple I understand you sold to Mr. Holmes?”
“Well, Ruth towd me …”
“I’m afraid we cannot have what Ruth told you.”
“What for, no? Oo’d tell me nowt wrang, I’ll go bail. Aw’ve sworn o’ this blessed book to tell th’ truth, th’ whole truth, an’ nowt but th’ truth, an’ awst noan lig easy o’ mi bed this neet, if aw dunnot.”
“Oh! let him have his way. I’m sick of the case, anyway,” put in Mr. Alison.
“Well, Ruth told you?”
“Well, Ruth said there wor’ a plot o’ th’ part o’ them two gamekeepers to catch Ephraim Sykes, Eph. o’ th’ Burnplatters, yo’ know, i’ an offence, an’ oo’d set her brains to work to—what did oo ca’ it. Guise-hong, my mem’ry’s noan what it used to be oh, frus, frus summat.”