“One day I d’ mind, Mrs. Collins, what fell out wi’ her darter for marryin’ some chap down to Bere—dalled if she didn’t meet the young woman plump in my cart! And they hadn’t been speaking for above a year.
“You see, ’twas this way. I took up Mary—that’s the darter—an’ her little child—a hinfant it was, not above four or five month old; I took ’em up first, an’ we was goin’ along the road Branston-ways, an’ it was gettin’ darkish when the wold lady met us.
“‘Can you make room for me, Jan?’ she says. ‘I bain’t so young as I was, an’ I’ve a-got a pair o’ new boots what do fair lame me.’
“‘To be sure, mum,’ says I. ‘Up wi’ ye; you can set along of I,’ I says, ‘here in front. There bain’t much room under the shed.’
“Well, she sits her down, an’ all of a minute the little baby under the shed begins a-cryin’, an’ poor Mary she begins a-hushin’ of it an’ a-talkin’ to it; and soon as ever the wold ’ooman hears her voice she gives a great start what very nearly throws her off the seat.
“‘Studdy, mum,’ says I; ‘if you do go a-jumpin’ up an’ down like that we’ll be a-droppin’ of ye into the road,’ I says.
“She made no answer and never turned her head.
“Well, the baby kep’ on a-cryin’ and a-cryin’—it had been vaccinated or some such thing—an’ the mother kep’ hushin’ it, an’ at last the wold ’ooman couldn’t hold out no longer.
“‘Give I that child, Mary,’ says she, sharp-like. ‘I d’ ’low you don’t know how to hold it,’ she says. ‘’Tis a shame to let a pore little hinfant scream like that. I d’ ’low ’twill do itself a mischief.’
“‘Oh, mother,’ says poor Mary; an’ she begins to cry herself as she hands over the child.