Sus. Seen him! Oh, my! I wish it had been me. I'd ha' seen him! I'd ha' torn his ugly eyes out.
Mat. They ain't ugly eyes. They're big and blue, and they sparkle so when he talks to her!
Sus. And who's her? Ye didn't mention a her. Some brazen-faced imperence!
Mat. No. The young lady at Mrs. Clifford's.
Sus. Oho! See if I do a stitch for her!—Shan't I leave a needle in her shimmy, just!
Mat. What shall I do! All the good's gone out of me! And such a pain here!
Sus. Keep in yer breath a minute, an' push yer ribs out. It's one on 'em's got a top o' the other.
Mat. Such a grand creature! And her colour coming and going like the shadows on the corn! It's no wonder he forgot poor me. But it'll burn itself out afore long.
Sus. Don't ye talk like that, Mattie; I can't abear it.
Mat. If I was dressed like her, though, and could get my colour back! But laws! I'm such a washed out piece o' goods beside her!