"You must knaw," said Churdles Ash to Tommy, "that this holy season be a gert time for signs an' wonders up-along an' down-along. I tell 'e these things, 'cause you'm a young youth, an' may profit an' hand 'em on to your childern in fulness of time. Theer be Gude Friday—a day of much vartue, I assure 'e. Not awnly the event o' the Lard's undoing by they bowldacious Jews, but the properest for plantin' vegetables in the whole of the year."
"An' the best for weanin' of childern," said Mr. Cramphorn. "Sally was weaned 'pon that day, an' went straight to cow's milk so natural an' easy as a born calf; an' look at her now!"
Mr. Collins sighed deeply.
"Butivulest gal in Debbensheer, I reckon," he said.
Jonah grunted assent, and Henry, feeling the moment for a certain vital question had arrived, mopped his wet brow and tremulously approached the matter.
"Fall back a pace or two, will 'e, maister? Your darter—I daresay you might have seed as I was a bit hit in that quarter?"
"I've seed it, I grant you. I'm all eyes wheer my gals be consarned."
"These things caan't be helped. I mean no disrespect, I'm sure. 'Tis the voice of nature in a man."
"I'm sorry for 'e, Henery."
"For that matter I couldn't wish myself out o' the evil, though 'tis perplexin' an' very onrestful to my head. I be mazed when I consider how a man of my modest way could think twice 'bout a rare piece like Sally. Never seed such a wonnerful strong arm 'pon any woman in all my born days."