‘Yi; he did forsure.’
‘Aw know hoo'll tak' to me, mother. An' if hoo doesn't, I'll mak' her, that's all.’
‘Aw don't somehaa think 'at Mr. Penrose ud wed a praad woman, Abram. Do yo'?’
‘I durnd think he would, lass. Bud then th' best o' men mak' mistakes o'er th' women they wed.’
‘Yi; they say luv's gawmless; but aw welly think Mr. Penrose knows what he's abaat.’
‘Th' Lord help him, if he doesn't! They say a mon hes to ax his wife if he's to live.’
‘Aw yerd Amos say t'other day, faither, that a chap hed to live thirty year wi' a woman afore he know'd he were wed.’
‘Did th' owd powse say that, lass?’ cried Milly's mother. ‘I nobbud wish I'd yerd him. He's lived more nor thirty year baat one, an' a bonny speciment he is. Bud it's a gradely job for th' woman 'at missed him. He were welly weddin' Malachi o' th' Mount's wife once over.’
‘Yi; hoo'd a lucky miss, an' no mistak'. But happen hoo'd ha' snapped him.’