“Theer’ll he plenty to yeat by and by,” said another. “Hey, here’s owd Ransome and Tomson, the man as neither liked gristle nor swarth, but was very fond o’ pig’s feet.”
“It warn’t he, but the servant gell as they had. Say, owd Ransome, hast got a new gell yet?”
“What weer it about t’owd one?” said another.
“Why, they ’most pined her to dead.”
“Hey, I thought they lived well theer.”
“She towd my missus that she should leave, for she had beef and mutton and pigeon-pie till she wus sick to dead on ’em.”
“Poor lass!” said another. “That weer her as see owd Ransome’s wife makking the pie.”
“Hey, and what weer that?”
“Ah, she says, ‘Sugarmum and buttermum, it’ll be a straange dear pie, mum.’”
“Here’s Dicky Glaire!” now was shouted, and plenty of cheers arose; but the men talked critically about his personal appearance as he got out of the carriage and went up the path with a supercilious smile upon his face.