"I've got a pendulum," said the clock, with a malevolent sort of titter.
"Yew'm sick?" asked Peter.
"I be that. 'Tis your doing," came the answer.
"I've looked after ye fine, Gran'vaither," said Peter crossly.
"'Tis that there thing on the hearthstone makes me sick," said the voice.
"That be a mommet," said Peter.
"I know 'tis. A mommet of Farmer Pendoggat."
"What du'ye know 'bout Varmer Pendoggat?" asked Peter suspiciously.
"Heard you talk about 'en," Grandfather answered. "Don't ye play wi' witchery, Peter. Smash the mommet up, and throw 'en away." The voice was talking quickly and becoming hoarser. "Undo what you've done if you can, and whatever you du don't ye put 'en in the fire again. If ye du I'll be telling to ye all night and will scare ye proper. I wun't give ye any sleep, Peter."
"You'm an old vule, Gran'vaither," said Peter.