“The Lord’ll help ’e, Joseph.”
“Lord helps those who help theerselves.”
“You’m gwaine to the Hall, however, for I’ve said it.”
“Not me—never.”
“You be, Joseph Hannaford, as I’m a living woman.”
“No. Not for nobody, Jane! I’ve never crossed you in my life; I’ve knuckled under like a worm for forty-three year, an’ shall henceforward just the same; but wheer Smallridge be in question I’m iron. I go to church next Sunday.”
“You never shall!”
“I always shall—an’ glad to get back. ’Twas a very silly thing to leave it.”
Mrs. Hannaford put her fowl-like nose within two inches of her husband’s.
“I dare you to do it.”