SARAH (on her mettle). An' A'll talk thy silly yead off an' all if tha doan't get sharp to tellin' me what tha wants after in my 'ouse, tha great mazed idiot.
SAM. Eh, but she were a rare un.
SARAH. The lad's daft aboot his moother.
SAM (detachedly, looking at window; pause). Wunnerful breeght the sky is, to-day.
SARAH. Tha great 'ulkin' fool. A'd tak' a broomstick to thee if—if A'd the use o' my 'ands.
SAM. Now, if that isn't just what ma moother used to say.
SARAH. Dang thy moother. An' A doan't mean no disrepect to 'er neither. She's bin in 'er grave this year an' more, poor woman.
SAM. A canna 'elp thinkin' to 'er all same. Eh, but she were wunnerful.
SARAH. An' A'd be wunnerful too. A'd talk to thee. A'd call thee if A were thy moother an' A'd to live aside o' thee neeght an' day.
SAM (eagerly). Eh, by gum, but A wish tha would.