“They doan’t,” she said.
“Tha knaws? Tha knaws I didna mean ’im?”
“Aye, I knaw, Steve.”
“An’, Dorsy, tha ’rn’t afraid of me? Tha ’rn’t afraid of me anny more?”
“Nay, lad. I loove thee too mooch. I shall navver be afraid of ’ee again. Would I coom to thee this road ef I was afraid?”
“Tha’ll be afraid now.”
“And what should I be afraid of?”
“Why—’im.”
“’Im? I should be a deal more afraid to think of ’ee setting with ’im oop ’ere, by thysen. Wuntha coom down and sleep at aunt’s?”
“That I wunna. But I shall set ’ee on t’ road passt t’ moor.”