“That’s the name of your donkey, I suppose?” said the squire, with a smile.
“Yes. He hezn’t mitch te say te ma’ i’ answer, tho’ noo an’ then he’s noisy aneeaf, bud he’s a varry good lissener, at onny rate he’s better then nowt. Ah reckon you’ve heeard what’s bin gannin’ o’ in Midden Harbour latly. The Lord’s been gettin’ tiv Hissen a glorious victh’ry, an’ scoores o’ poor sowls hez been tonned frae darkness te leet, an’ frae t’ poo’er o’ Satan te God. De yo’ knoa owt aboot that, ah wunder?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” said the squire, who was getting more than he bargained for.
“Why then, bless yo’, why nut? Jesus dee’d fo’ yo’, bare your sins iv His aun body upo’ t’ tree. Try Him! Beleeave iv Him, an’ ah’ll lay me life He’ll mak’ yo’ as ’appy as yo’ can live.”
“Then you are happy, are you?”
“’Appy! Prayse the Lord. Ah sud think I is, an’ hae been for mair then fifty year; an’ this minnit ah knoa nowt sae sartain as that Jesus is my Saviour, an’ ’at me’ neeame’s written i’ t’ Lamb’s Book ov Life.”
“What were you saying about a new chapel, when I overtook you? Is there likely to be one in Nestleton?”
“Hey, mair then likely, it’s sartain. Meeast o’ t’ monney’s riddy, and noo the Lord’s gi’en us a congregation an’ a society riddy, we’re nobbut waitin’ for t’ squire te be riddy, an’ then we sall ’rise an’ build.’”
“But have you any hope that the squire is likely to be ready? I thought he had refused you a piece of ground long since.”
“Why, seea he did—nay, nut exactly refused oot an’ oot; bud he said he wad tak’ tahme te think aboot it, an’ we’ve been prayin’ and beleeavin’ an’ waitin’ ivver since; an’ bless yo’, ah’ve neea mair doot aboot it, then I hev ’at t’ squire hisself ’ll cum te Jesus, an’ be meead as ’appy as Maister Philip is, God bless ’im. Ah tell yo’, that yung man’s a glorious and noble fello’ ’at ’ll sum day be yan o’ t’ greeatest blessin’s Waverdale’s ivver knoan.”