"Bill Foster."
"Aw ne'er sed owt abaat Bill Foster, aw mean Foster, M. P. for Bradforth. He's browt in a bill to eddicate fowks childer."
"Ho has he, aw niver heeard on it."
"Why tha'rt awfully behund hand."
"Aw may be i' mi politics, but net i' me payments, an' that's what monny a thaasand connot say. Aw wonder sometimes ha it wod ha been if iverybody 'at owed owt had been foorced to put it o'th' census paper. But what does ta think abaat old Strap puttin daan all his five childer musicianers?"
"Nay aw dooant know, but he wor allus a foxy sooart ov a chap an' he'd have some reason for it. But ha does ta mak it aat 'at they are all musicians?"
"Why, ther's two bellringers, two drummers, an' one drum hugger, an they all play off nooats, an' a varry long way off 'em sometimes. Did ta hear tell abaat them two lads o' his havin that do i'th' church steeple?"
"Noa, indeed aw! Let's have it."
"Well tha knows it happened to be practice neet an' as Ike wor gooin to th' church he bowt a sheep's pluck an' tuk it wi him, intendin to tak it hooam an have it cooked for ther supper. He happened to be th' furst 'at gate into th' bell chamer, soa he hung th' sheep pluck up agean th' wall, an' then went daan agean, leavin a little lamp burnin i'th' steeple. He'd hardly getten off th' step when his brother coom, an' findin th' door oppen he went up; but befoor he gate thear, a gust o' wind blew aat th' leet an' all wor as dark as pitch. He thowt it wor varry strange for he knew Ike had come before him, soa he bawled aat 'Ike!' but nobody spaik. 'Aw know tha'rt up here,' he sed, 'soa let's ha nooan o' thi tricks. Spaik, wi' ta?" but nowt spaik. Sid felt rayther freetened, but he began to grope all raand th' walls, bein sure his brother wor thear i'th' dark. All at once his hand coom agean a piece o' liver, an' it felt soa cold, an' soa mich like a face, 'at he started back, an' as sooin as he could find th' step, he ran daan as fast as he could, an' when he gate to th' bottom he luk'd at his hand an' it wor all blooidy. 'Awr Ike's cut his throit,' he sed, 'Whativer mun aw do?' An he wor just gooin to yell aat 'Police!' when who should come up but his brother. Th' seet on him tuk a gurt looard off Sid's mind, but yet he wor varry freetened. 'What's th' matter, Sid,' sed his brother, 'tha luks ill; Isn't th' pluck all reight?' 'Th' pluck's gooan,' sed Sid, shakkin his heead an' puttin his hand on his heart. 'Gooan!—Aw'll niver goa into that bell-chamer ageean as long as aw live! Aw've allus sed, if a chap 'll rob another ov his livin, he'll rob him ov his life if he's a chonce.'"
"'Well aw wor just thinkin a gooin for th' police,' sed Sid, 'but we dooant know who it is.' Its one o'th' ringers as sure as we're here.' 'Hi, its one o'th' ringers noa daat, but aw hooap he hasn't a wife an' a lot o' childer.' 'Well,' sed Ike, 'if he has, an taks it hooam for 'em to ait, aw hooap it'll chooak th' lot on 'em.' Just as he sed this, all th' rest o'th' ringers coom up, an' were capt to find Ike an' Sid soa excited, soa pairt cluthered raand one an' pairt raand tother, an' Sid tell'd one lot 'at a chap had cut his throit i'th' bell chamer, an' Ike tell'd tother 'at somdy'd stown his sheep's pluck. 'Well we mun goa an see,' sed some on 'em, an they gate some leets an away they went up. Ike wor th' first an' Sid th' last. When they gate into th' chamer, Ike saw th' pluck hung up just whear he'd left it, an' he turned raand an' saw Sid peepin off th' corner o'th' door. 'This is one o' thy tricks, Sid,' sed Ike, but th' words wor hardly aat ov his maath befoor Sid wor on his knees declaring, 'at he'd niver harmed onybody i' all his life. 'Tha's noa need to goa onto thi knees abaat it onyway,' sed Ike, 'haiver, hear it is, soa all's reight, tha con hug it up hooam for me; an' he gave it him. Sid wor soa taen, wol he put up his hands to mak sure 'at he worn't asleep; an' th' chaps 'at he'd been tellin his tale to, began to smell a rat, an' at last it wor all explained, an' niver mind if ther worn't some laffin an' chaffin. Poor Sid gets plagued abaat it yet, for ommost ivery body's getten to know, an' if onnybody, livin abaat that church, wants a sheep's heead an' a pluck, they order th' butcher to send 'em a New-Taan Boggard."