"Aw do smook a little, sir, but varry little."
"Then, ov cooarse as its soa little, yo willn't object to give it up in order to win Mabel's hand?"
Poor Sydney, he'd nobbut had three cigars that mornin, an he wor fair deein to get aght an have a smook, but ther didn't seem noa escape, soa wi a sigh, he sed:—"Varry weel, sir, aw'll give it up."
Owd Mothersdale grinned, an thowt ha nicely he wor payin him off for th' neet befoor, then he shoved a sheet o' paper across th' table, an Sydney wrote on it that he promised nivver to smook no mooar wol th' owd chap consented.
"Aw shall nivver consent," sed Mr. Mothersdale, "haivver it doesn't matter. Nah, Mabel, gie me a kiss, an then yo an Mister Horne can run away an talk things ovver."
Mabel kissed him, an went away wi Sydney, but when shoo axed him afterwards what th' joke wor he'd promised to tell her, he pretended he'd forgetten.
They wor wed at Midsummer, an Sydney kept his word abaat smookin—he started chewin, an suckin owd empty pipes, but it worn't like smookin, an whenivver he smelt th' reek ov a cigar it fair set him longin, but like a man owt to do, he didn't braik his promise.
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Abaat a year after, when they wor baan to cursen th' babby, Mabel's father wor ax'd to th' ceremony. Mabel wor vexed at Sydney couldn't smook, becoss shoo knew ha fond he wor on it, soa th' afternooin her father wor expected, shoo sed, "we'll cure papa ov his dislike to bacca smook, or else we'll get him to let yo smook ageean."
"Hah'll yo do it, lass?"