"Yew never promised to starve me wi' ice and snow on Tavy Cleave neither," replied Mary.
"I didn't promise nothing. I meant to tak' ye home, reasonable wear and tear excepted; this here is reasonable wear and tear. Yew promised to give me a shillun."
"When yew put me down," added Mary.
"Yew wur put down," said Peter.
"Not to my door."
"That warn't my fault," said Peter. "Twas your worriting what done it; if yew hadn't worrited I'd have put ye out to Mary Tavy. Yew worrited and upset the cart, and now we'm dying."
"I b'ain't dying," said Mary stoutly.
"I be," said Peter drearily. "I be all cold and nohow inside. I be a going to die; I'd like to die wi' that shillun in my pocket."
"Doan't ye go on about it, Peter. If yew'm dying yew'll soon be in a place where yew won't want shilluns."
"While I be here I want 'en," said Peter. "Yew'll be fearful sorry when yew see me lying a cold carpse wi'out a shillun in my pocket."