"Ther is noan," they says, "its all done."
"Why mucky watter 'll sleck as weel as clean, give us howd of a pailful o' swill. We munnot have th' poor body burnt to th' deeath."
Just as Slinger was rushin aght o'th' door he gate a reglar dooas 'at ommost floor'd him.
"Nah lads, lets stop a bit, says Jim, aw think th' dangers ommost ovver,—lets see who this chap is. It's happen somdy at wanted to burn owd Molly aght o' haase an' harbor."
Slinger brast aght o'th' door like a roarin lion,—but he wor sooin collard, an' he wor soa bedisend with soft cake an' puttaty pillins at his own mother could'nt ha owned him.
"Dooant yo know who aw am," he sputtered aght, "Awm Slinger, yo know me."
"Bith mass it is Slinger," said Jim,—"its noabdy else," whativer has ta been dooin to get into a mess like this? Tha may thank thy stars tha worn't burnt to th' deeath."
"Well aw dooant know 'at it means mich whether a chap's burnt or draand, but awther on 'em befoor being smoord,—did iver ony body see sich a seet as aw am?"
"Why tha luks like a sheep heead wi brain sauce tem'd over it, said one."
"He needn't carry a scent bottle wi' him, they'll be able to smell him withaat," said another.