“Ess fay, ’tis wheer I sit Sundays—’9 feet by 11; 3 four-prong dung forks.’ I’ll move them. They doan’t come in none tu well theer, I allow. ‘5 cane-seated chairs, 1 specimen of wax fruit under glass.’”
“I caan’t paart wi’ that, lovey. Faither gived it to me; an’ ’twas mother’s wance on a time.”
“Well, bein’ a forced sale it ought to go. An’ seein’ how Miller’s left us to sail our awn boat to hell—but still, if you’m set on it.”
He crossed it out, then suddenly laughed until the walls rang.
“Hush! You’ll wake everybody. What do ’e find to be happy about?”
“I was thinkin’ that down in them furrin, fiery paarts we’m gwaine to, as your wax plums an’ pears’ll damned soon run away. They’ll melt for sartin!”
“Caan’t be so hot as that! The li’l gal will never stand it. Read on now. Theer ban’t much left, surely?”
“Scores o’ things! ‘1 stuffed kingfisher in good case with painted picture at back; 1 fox mask; 1 mahogany 2-lap table; 1 warming-pan; Britannia metal teapot and 6 spoons ditto metal; 5 spoons—smaller—ditto metal.’”
“I found the one us lost.”
“Then ’tis ‘6 spoons—smaller—ditto metal.’ Then, ‘ironing stove; 5 irons; washing boiler; 4 fry pans; 2 chimney crooks; 6 saucepans; pestle and mortar; chimney ornaments; 4 coloured almanacs—one with picture of the Queen—’”