Jack. Yes; come along. 'Tain't a comfable corner this yere: the wind cuts round uncommon sharp. Them pies ain't good—leastways not to look at.
Bill. They ain't disgestible. But look ye here, Jack and Jim—hearkee, my kids. (Puts an arm round the neck of each, and whispers first to one and then to the other.)
Enter MATTIE and SUSAN.
Sus. Now, Mattie, we're close to the house, an' I don't want to be seen with you, for she's mad at me.
Mat. You must have made her mad, then, Sue.
Sus. She madded me first: what else when she wouldn't believe a word I said? She'd ha' sworn on the gospel book, we sent the parcel up the spout. But she'll believe you, an' give you something, and then we'll have a chop!
Mat. How can you expect that, Sue, when the work's lost?
Sus. Never mind; you go and see.
Mat. I shan't take it, Susan. I couldn't.
Sus. Stuff and nonsense! I'll wait you round the corner: I don't like the smell o' them pastry things.