A Suffolk Labourer’s Story.
The Owd Master at the Hall had two children—Mr James and Miss Mary. Mr James was ivver so much owder than Miss Mary. She come kind o’ unexpected like, and she warn’t but a little thing when she lost her mother. When she got owd enough Owd Master sent her to a young ladies’ skule. She was there a soot o’ years, and when she come to stäa at home, she was such a pretty young lady, that she was. She was werry fond of cumpany, but there warn’t the lissest bit wrong about her. There was a young gentleman, from the shēres, who lived at a farm in the next parish, where he was come to larn farmin’. He was werry fond of her, and though his own folks din’t like it, it was all sattled that he was soon to marry her. Then he hear’d suffen about her, which warn’t a bit true, and he went awäa, and was persuaded to marry somebody else. Miss Mary took on bad about it, but that warn’t the wust of it. She had a baby before long, and he was the father on’t.
O lawk, a lawk! how the Owd Master did break out
when he hear’d of it! My mother lived close by, and nussed poor Miss Mary, so I’ve h’ard all about it. He woun’t let the child stop in the house, but sent it awäa to a house three miles off, where the woman had lost her child. But when Miss Mary got about, the woman used to bring the baby—he was “Master Charley”—to my mother’s. One däa, when she went down, my mother towd her that he warn’t well; so off she went to see him. When she got home she was late, and the owd man was kep’ waitin’ for his dinner. As soon as he see her, he roared out, “What! hev yeou bin to see yar bastard?” “O father,” says she, “yeou shoun’t säa so.” “Shoun’t säa so,” said he, “shoun’t I? I can säa wuss than that.” And then he called her a bad name. She got up, nivver said a wadd, but walked straight out of the front door. They din’t take much notiz at fust, but when she din’t come back, they got scared, and looked for her all about; and at last they found her in the mŏot, at the bottom of the orchard.
O lawk, a lawk!
The Owd Master nivver could howd up arter that. ’Fore that, if he was put out, yeou could hear ’im all over the farm, a-cussin’ and swearin’. He werry seldom spŏok to anybody now, but he was alluz about arly and late; nŏthin’ seemed to tire him. ’Fore that he nivver went to
chărch; now he went reg’ler. But he wud säa sumtimes, comin’ out, “Parson’s a fule.” But if anybody was ill, he bod ’em go up to the Hall and ax for suffen. [62] There was young Farmer Whoo’s wife was werry bad, and the doctor säa that what she wanted was London poort. So he sent my father to the marchant at Ipswich, to bring back four dozen. Arter dark he was to lave it at the house, but not to knock. They nivver knew where ta come from till arter he died. But he fare to get waker, and to stupe more ivry year.
Yeou ax me about “Master Charley.” Well, he growed up such a pretty bor. He lived along with my mother for the most part, and Mr James was so fond of him. He’d come down, and pläa and talk to him the hour togither, and Master Charley would foller ’im about like a little dawg.
One däa they was togither, and Owd Master met ’em. “James,” said he, “what bor is that alluz follerin’ yeou about?” He said, “It’s Mary’s child.” The owd man tărned round as if he’d bin shot, and went home all himpin’ along. Folks heared him säa, “Mary’s child! Lord! Lord!” When he got in, he sot down, and nivver spŏok a wădd, ’cept now and then, “Mary’s child! Lord! Lord!” He coun’t ate no dinner; but he towd ’em to
go for my mother; and when she come, he säa to her, “Missus, yeou must git me to bed.” And there he läa all night, nivver slāpin’ a bit, but goin’ on säain, “Mary’s child! Lord! Lord!” quite solemn like. Sumtimes he’d säa, “I’ve bin a bad un in my time, I hev.”