War. Well now, you give me a turn, and hear what I've got to say.
Tho. Yo're o' tarred wi' th' same stick. Ivvery body maks gam ov th' poor owd mon! Let me goo, maister. Aw want mo chylt, mo Mattie!
War. You must wait till Mr. Gervaise's man comes back.
Tho. (despairingly) O Lord. Th' peack ov sunbrunt lies they ha' been tellin' me sin' aw coom yere!—childer an o'!
War. Have patience, man. You won't repent it.
Tho. What mun be, mun. Aw connot ha' patience, but aw con stop. Aw'd rayther goo, though. Aw'm noan sorry to rest noather. (Sits down on the dais.)
Enter BILL.
War. Here, boy! Don't let the old man go till some one comes. Exit.
Bill. All right, sir! Hillo, daddy! There you are! Thank God!
Tho. What fur, boy? Wull he gie mo mo Mattie again—dosto think?