“Yes; I know that you have been attached to Simon's daughter for a long time, and that he is against it; I wish I could help you, with all my heart. In fact, I did feel my way towards speaking to him about it last year, when I was in hopes of getting you the gardener's place. But I could see that I should do no good.”
“I've heard say as you was acquainted with her, when she was away?”
“Yes, I was, when she was with her aunt in Oxford. What then?”
“'Twas there as she larnt her bad ways.”
“Bad ways! What do you mean?”
“I means as she larnt to dress fine, and to gee herself airs to them as she'd known from a child, and as'd ha' gone through fire to please her.”
“I never saw anything of the kind in her. She was a pleasant, lively girl, and dressed neatly, but never above her station. And I'm sure she has too good a heart to hurt an old friend.”
“Wut made her keep shut up in the house when she cum back? ah, for days and weeks;—and arter that, wut made her so flighty and fickle? carryin' herself as proud as a lady a mincin' and a trapesin' along, wi' all the young farmer's a follerin' her, like a fine gentleman's miss.”
“Come, Harry, I won't listen to that. You don't believe what you're saying, you know her better.”
“You knows her well enough by all seeming.”