“‘Yon little raskil Will’s been here again,’ he’d say; ‘my word, I’ll thrash him if I cotch him here.’
“And moother, hoo’d tak’ me by the ear, and drag me across the kitchen and sit me down on my stool i’ th’ corner wi’ my patchwork. ‘If thou dar’s so mich as say a word to yon agin’, hoo’d say, ‘I’ll fetch birch-rod to thee.’
“But ’tweren’t o’ no use. Soon as ever I’d hear the three taps, and see the roguish e’en o’ Will laughin’ in at me through the window, I’d mak’ my way to him soom gate. Yigh, I wur terrible headstrong. Poor mother—hoo’d a done better to ha’ takken rod to me—but hoo never did more nor talk—hoo thought the warld o’ me, and so did my feyther.”
“Were your parents alive when you married?” I inquired, breaking in upon the somewhat lengthy silence which ensued.
“Nay, ma’am, they deed both on ’em, when I wur eighteen year of age. My aunt coomed to live wi’ me then for a bit, but we didn’t get on so well. Will had been sailorin’ for nigh upon five year then, and I only seed him now and agin. Eh, I mind well the time he coom at arter feyther and moother deed. I had my blacks on, fur it were market day, and me and my aunt had been down to th’ village. We had afallin’ out as we coom we’re ways awhoam again, and my aunt hoo’d gone straight to her chamber, and hoo said hoo didn’t want no tay, and hoo’d pack up and go next morn and leave me alone, for I wur but an ill-mannered, ill-tempered wench. Well, I coom in and sot me down here in cheer, and I got a-gate o’ cryin’, for I wur feelin’ quite undone to think o’ my aunt goin’ that gate, and I wur thinkin’ how lonely I was, and what a miserable thing it war for a lass to be left same as me wi’out feyther nor moother, when all of a sudden I heerd Will knockin’ at the pane. Didn’t I jump up, and didn’t I run out, and didn’t he cotch me in’s arms and kiss me same as nobry’d ever kissed me afore! ‘Why, my lass,’ says he, ‘wast thou cryin’? I never see those bonny e’en o’ thine wi’ tears in ’em afore. Why, what wast thou cryin’ for, Molly?’
“I looked up in his face—eh, it was a bonny face, and so kind and anxious like, that I fair burst out again. ‘Coom, lass,’ says he, ‘we’s ha’ no more tears, but thou mun tell me all about it.’ ‘Eh, well,’ says I, ‘I’m cryin’ because I am a cross, bad-tempered lass and nobry can’t a-bear to live i’ th’ house wi’ me.’ ‘Coom, is that all?’ says he, and he laughed till he fair shook; ‘I know soombry as could manage very well to live i’ th’ same house as thee. Coom, give over—I thought ’t were summat war when I see thee i’ thy blacks and all.’
“‘Nay, but it is war,’ says I, ‘feyther and moother are dead o’ the fever, and I am left wi’ nobry but my aunt Jane, and her and me cannot agree, and we had words coomin’ awhoam fro’ market, and hoo says hoo wunnot live wi’ me no more.’
“‘Eh, dear, eh, dear, there’s a tale,’ says he; ‘coom, will Aunt Jane eat me, dost thou think, if I ax to coom in?’
“Hoo cannot eat thee if hoo wants to,’ says I, howdin’ up my head. ‘This house belongs to me now, and I am missus.’ We were steppin’ inside then, and Will put his two hands o’ my shoulders and turned my face to the leet.
“‘Thou’rt missus, art thou?’ says Will, ‘but thou’ll’t tak a master soom day, my wench.’