“How happy I used to be then!” sighed Dally, stroking a thin wisp off her grandfather’s hideous old forehead.
“Ah, you was a good little gel then, and thought about your poor old gran’fa, and didn’t come bothering him for money.”
“Yes, I did, gran’fa—for sweeties,” said Dally.
“Ay; but I wouldn’t give you none, gel.”
“Yes, you did sometimes, gran’fa; and so you would now to buy some nice things—a pretty bonnet—if I asked you.”
“Nay, I wouldn’t. And I knew it. You’ve come a-purpose to worry me out of some money.”
“No, I haven’t, gran’fa.”
“Ay, but you have. I know. Look here, how’s that going on? If it’s going to be my leddy, you shall have as much as you want; but not without. Is he courting of you?”
“No, gran’fa.”
“Whaaart?”