“Can you think and snore at the same time?” I queried, for indeed Jim’s head had scarcely touched the pillow before he was fast asleep, and I doubt if he had stirred till I had, with difficulty, roused him from the deep slumber of a healthy and weary man who had sat up long after his usual bedtime.
“Thee be quiet, Abe, aw’ve enough wi’ Ruth. One dog one bull’s fair play onny day i’ th’ week. Aw say aw’n bin turnin’ it ovver i’ mi yead abaat Mitchell Mill, an’ aw’n come to a conclusion.”
“An’ what might it be, O most sagacious of men?” asked Ruth pertly.
“Well, aw’n come to th’ conclusion,” said Jim slowly—”aw’ll tak’ another slice o’ that theer ham, if yo’ don’t mind, Miriam. Aw dunnot know if it’s th’ way th’ pig’s been fed or whether it’s summat i’ th’ air, but aw allus will maintain ’at there’s nowt to ekal Pole Moor ham. Aw dunnot wonder at th’ chap ’at left it i’ his will ’at he sud be buried wi’ ham if he’d ivver sampled yourn at th’ Pole.”
Clearly Jim was a diplomatist of the first order. If there was one thing above another Ruth prided herself upon it was her ham.
“It’s partly th’ feeding,” she said, “but it’s mainly th’ curing. I will say it, though maybe I shouldn’t, I can cure a ham.”
“That you can, Ruth. Nah, if my grammar ’ud nobbut bin gooid pig tha’d ha’ had me cured long sin’, but aw’m feart aw’m too far gone even for thee, lass. But about Mitchell Mill?”
“Yes, about th’ Mill?” I said somewhat impatiently.
“Weel,” said Jim, very deliberately, “as aw were sayin’, aw’ve turned th’ thing ovver i’ my yead, while yo’ were sleepin’ as if yo’ hadn’t a care o’ your mind, just like a new-born babby ’at knows it’s nowt to do but turn its yead an’ there’s th’ tit ready to its mouth, an’ aw’ve come to a concloosion. Aw’ll just ha’ th’ heel o’ that loaf, Miriam, an’ a morsel o’ butter on it to polish off wi’.”
“Oh! do get on,” cried Ruth, “you and your conclusions.”